


i'm gonna leave it all out there to dry

by littleblacksubmarine



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Choking, Denial of Feelings, Frottage, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Pining, Rimming, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-06-18 21:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 84,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15495000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblacksubmarine/pseuds/littleblacksubmarine
Summary: Sonny is doing a good job of fraying at the seams; Rafael is a phone call away, even when he is never thrilled to be.





	1. i. i'm gonna leave it all out there to dry

One might say it was a satisfactory resolution on a difficult case that still gnawed at Sonny: he didn't like the undercover ones. He could never seem to stand in the shower long enough to wash the grimy feeling off of his skin, even days later, even weeks later when the verdict had later come down, even a good one. Sitting in the courtroom hearing the particulars of the human trafficking ring he'd infiltrated for several agonizingly long days before there was enough evidence to apprehend those responsible had made bile rise to the back of his throat. Those kids - most of them nameless, faceless, notches on a too-long list.

Sonny had heard a lot of things, a lot of terrible things he sometimes couldn't shake at bedtime without the aid of enough beers to drown a man with a lesser memory bank of horrors. The city never slept, and these days Sonny felt that they had that in common.

He'd been in the shower nearly long enough to scald his fair skin, and the feeling of filth was still burrowed underneath that skin. He hadn't bothered to dry his hair and had shrugged on the most comfortable sweats and flimsiest old t-shirt he owned, but it felt more like the starched suit of a man who never really came home to relax. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, slouched on the couch with a rapidly warming domestic beer tucked in the crook of his arm like an old friend who constantly overstayed his welcome but you liked too much to chase off.

Sonny thanked God that he'd have a few days off for the weekend, not that a few days of toiling around his apartment would be enough to make him feel better. Idle hands, Devil's playground - enough of a cliché to make him regret not planning to go out to see his parents or his sisters for dinner, away from the bustle of Manhattan that Sonny was slowly beginning to see as nothing more than rot. It was just as well; he couldn't hid the circles underneath his eyes from the watchful eye of his ma, couldn't avoid the sharp jab of her index finger into his ribs: _Jesus, Sonny, don't you ever eat anymore?_

Minutes, maybe hours ticked by, and the buzzing in Sonny's mind hadn't slowed, but his vision had blurred slightly thanks to the smattering of cans on the coffee table. His cheap order of Chinese takeout languished, forgotten due to lack of interest or appetite beside the disorganized cluster of aluminum. He chuckled darkly at his own pitiful state.

Sonny had never been good with impulse control, not really - he'd made some progress at tempering it on the job, but he still kicked himself for barreling through life with the grace of a newborn colt who hadn't quite learned to manage its limbs quite yet. With that in mind, his fingers inched toward his phone before he stopped to consider silly things like _consequences_. The rest of the world didn't seem to consider these things, so why should be deviate from the norm?

He tapped his passcode in with his free hand, scrolling through the list of text conversations before settling on a familiar one in the middle.

Most of the texts Sonny and Barba had traded recently had been about cases: updates about warrants, nagging evening messages to Sonny to _please be on time for trial prep tomorrow, for once_ , and a rare exchange like the one Sonny was - for lack of a more appropriate euphemism - "planning" to fire off tonight.

 _What are you doing?_ he typed, with little desire to provide any type of pleasantry or context clue. He could practically see the look of tepid annoyance that would wrinkle Barba's brow when the text vibrated on his end. It quietly made Sonny smile to be the source of that annoyance, especially knowing there was a good chance that this prodding might end in his favor.  

A few minutes passed before the response, and in this time Sonny had sauntered to the kitchen to crack open another sweating can, the too-long hems of his pants dragging across the carpet.

_At the office_

No punctuation; the message was short and almost abrupt, much like the man himself on his worst days. Sonny's lips quirked fondly.

 _Its been a long day. Maybe you should be here instead._ Sonny had never been smooth; he'd thrown the vain hope of developing that skill to the wind long ago, and liked to assure himself that it added to his charm.

This pause was shorter, perhaps rehearsed in Barba's head after Sonny had reached out, fueled by barley and hops, one too many times. _I thought we agreed we weren't going to do this anymore, Detective._ To be addressed with such formality reminded Sonny that yes, maybe they had had this conversation in the past. It didn't surprise him to have his memory jogged, though he couldn't imagine he would agree to such a thing. It wasn't even just the appeal of a man in a suit who commanded the attention of jurors and judges alike, that undercurrent of confidence that had won cases and delivered overdue justice. It was something akin to hope that all of these night classes and days poring over study guides for the bar exam might carry him out of the streets and onto the ability to face the tarnishes of the world through case files stuffed in burgeoning manila folders instead of splashed across the numb, tear-streaked faces of victims in hospital emergency rooms.

 _I dont want to do that. Please its been a long day. It would be nice if you were here._ It was pitiful to his eyes, close to pixels of begging.

 _Have you ever heard of an apostrophe, Carisi?_ The text was almost fond, comforting, and was followed shortly. _I'll come when I'm done here, if it's not too late for you._

It made Sonny chuckle, the implication that he had any semblance of a normal sleep schedule these days. He texted back some form of assent, but made little effort to look more presentable prior to Barba's arrival. He'd given up on trying to impress the other man long ago, knowing he was seen by some as the pesky overgrown golden retriever of the precinct who hadn't quite learned his size and energy level yet. He tilted his head back and tried to savor the anticipation of possibilities the rest of the night might carry for him.

Sonny had never been interested in men before, not really, aside from admiration of others in the police academy that he'd never acted upon; he'd chided himself over it when kneeling in pews until he convinced himself it was safely stuffed away where he couldn't find it any longer. Sonny pined over women he knew he'd never have, sent flowers to girlfriends, made love to perfectly nice women he wanted to bring home to his ma and his sisters.

It had all gone out the window when Rafael Barba had strolled into his life, all sharp three piece suits and the ability to cut Sonny's pride in his perfectly respectable Fordham law GPA down to size. Sonny found himself wanting to be remarkable to the other man, maybe a kindred spirit with a passion for law and the expertise to back it up. That did not come as readily as he'd hoped, so he'd doubled his efforts to become as good of an SVU detective as he could manage. At least that was working out for him; at least he felt competent in one arena, even if it practically haunted him in the dim and silence of his apartment when he ought to be shrugging it off with bad television and meet ups with friends for rounds of drinks and mozzarella sticks in cheap bars.

He'd been shuffled around to enough departments to know that any of his initial successes would be seen as a fluke.

It had taken a long case - god, another one, always, they never stopped coming - that they'd eventually lost to make Barba take notice of him. More specifically, it took the team debriefing at the dingy Irish pub around the block from the precinct to bring that notice about. Even Lieu had been present, a glass of wine that seemed too nice for the environment balanced delicately in her competent hand.

The crowd had thinned progressively throughout the evening, even after Amanda had ordered a handful of shots for the more willing participants in the group - Sonny included, naturally. For his part, Barba had nursed more than a couple of fingers of scotch, largely silent but always vigilant of his surroundings.

Barba was about to depart himself when Sonny had looked at him, blearily and almost desperately. "I wish you liked me," he'd slurred before he could stop himself, mournful and pathetic to his own ears. He could hear Amanda chuckle, slapping an affectionate hand on his shoulder as she gathered her own coat, remarking genially on his building inebriation as she worked her way to the exit.

It had been just the two of them now as Barba regained his seat at the bar.

"What makes you think I dislike you, Detective?" he asked wryly, as though it were obvious. His life was a rich chuckle that sent a little electricity through the pit of Sonny's stomach.

"You're snippy," Sonny said, using the terminology his ma often used to describe a less-than-enthusiastic cashier or a customer service worker. "I get it, I guess. Can't compete with Harvard, I guess," he laughed, trying to show this was in no way confrontational - he hoped.

Barba cocked his head to the side, _hmming_ thoughtfully. "Sounds like something I might say, though I don't think I've made the comment out loud."

They both cracked a smile at that, and it had been downhill from there, depending on how you might look at it, after Sonny had disposed of a couple more beers.

He couldn't exactly remember the specifics of how he'd ended up pressed against the bricks of a pungent alleyway with Barba's mouth crushed against him in a mess of tongue and teeth, but whatever it took, Sonny counted himself grateful. He could feel Barba straining against his thigh, murmuring against his neck and mouth that they should take this somewhere that prying eyes couldn't delight in finding a couple of civil servants with their hands down each other's pants right out there in the public they sought to protect.

He'd then found himself face down in his own sheets - likely scratchier than Barba was accustomed to - Barba thrusting hard inside of him, _finally, fucking finally_ , moving as though trying to make Sonny beg for penance for every time he'd been a pest or an inconvenience in his life. He had never done this before, never even seriously entertained the notion. It was a delight he relished in, even when he was sore for days and Barba shifted back to a professional pattern of aloofness. He savored the memory of Barba's hands clenching bruises into the tender skin of his hips, savored it when he ran his fingers over them on the way to wrapping around his cock when he was alone in bed in the following days.

Now he was hooked.

They'd had some dalliances after that, often provoked by Sonny sending less-than-professional texts when he was half in the bag (or if he was honest with himself, more than half at times), sometimes with Barba's hand at the back of his neck or, once, even around to the front of his throat. _Fucking hell_ , Sonny had rasped, slamming his hips back with enough force to almost knock Barba backwards. He'd thought about that for days, too, and wondered why it had taken him so long to acknowledge that he was absolutely desperate for the roughness that only Barba seemed to be willing to dole out to him.

Now, Sonny was knocked out of his fond reminiscence by a short, smart series of raps on the door to his apartment. He willed his body to relax, finding he'd started to grow firm between his legs.

He walked to the door, trying to look composed and more sober than not. When he opened it, Barba stood on the other side, still dressed in a fine tweed suit with his briefcase tucked under his arm. It made Sonny glad to know that he'd been convincing enough to persuade Barba to come directly from the office. He wanted to be eaten alive in that moment.

"Hi," Sonny said, leaning almost out of necessity against the doorframe.

"Hello, Carisi," Barba said, as though waiting for an engraved invitation to come inside. Sonny stood aside and gestured for Barba to enter. He locked the door and deadbolted it behind him, though he didn't want to admit that he did so out of the kind of hypervigilance he'd arrived at after too many years of hearing stories about home invasions from victims that secretly made him shiver. Upon seeing the state of his coffee table, Barba wrinkled his nose. "Coors? Delightful." Sonny winced, suddenly self-conscious about his preferences. "I hope you didn't invite me over here to drink that."

"You know I don't share my beer," Sonny joked, trying to keep the mood light, trying to keep from embarrassing himself. "My sister gave me a real nice bottle of wine when I moved in. I haven't touched it; can't stand the stuff." Barba nodded; this appeared to be an acceptable answer. He shucked off his suit jacket, draping it carefully over the back of one of the chairs in Sonny's laughably small dining area, and allowed his tie to join it. Sonny fished the bottle from the back of his cabinet and fumbled with the cork, out of practice since his last girlfriend had decided she was a wine snob. She, too, hadn't liked Sonny's beer; said it reminded her of the type of shit her Midwestern dad would drink on his boat. It hadn't lasted much longer than that.

Sonny also found his last remaining wine glass forgotten on a shelf in another cabinet and poured a generous glass for Barba. He wanted to exclaim _ta-da_ to attract attention to the fact that sometimes he could - just barely - entertain like an adult man instead of an overgrown bachelor, but thought better of it. He brought the delicate glass back to the couch where Barba now sat, looking too refined to be in Sonny's modest one bedroom. Sonny couldn't believe his own luck sometimes, even when it was rare that a man of Barba's stature graced his living room. He hadn’t even put his dinner away yet.

"So. Long day? Did you miss the part where we won the case, Detective?" Barba asked, taking a practiced sip of his wine.

Sonny took a moment to consider how to respond, how to not pour his heart out about the times he'd awoken with a start thinking about the few days he'd spent undercover. He hesitated to call them nightmares; it seemed weak to his own ears.

He cleared his throat. "I didn't enjoy my undercover assignment," he admitted mildly. "It's been hard to put it down. It was hard to hear about it in court all over again." Hard. Hard. Everything was always hard. It was a level of vulnerability he was cautious about revealing to anyone, let alone coworkers or other detectives and officers. _Comes with the territory_ , he'd told himself more than once. It was not for the faint of heart. He'd had a sergeant once who'd sneered at a room of rattled officers: _if you don't like it, go work at fucking Target_. He'd never forgotten it.

"It was a difficult one. Just because you did it well doesn't mean you're not allowed to have it take a toll on you," Barba mused, and Sonny felt a little thrilled by the lack of edge in the comment.

 "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you might have just complimented my police work, Counselor," he chuckled.

 "Don't go around telling anyone about it," Barba warned, draining his glass. "I have a reputation I don't care to compromise at the moment."

 "Your secret's safe with me."

 They sat in an almost companionable silence as Barba poured himself another glass of wine, smaller than the heavy- handed one Sonny had made for him upon his arrival.

 Barba leaned back against the couch cushions. "Why did you call me here tonight, Sonny?" he asked, his features softening. It had always gladdened him to hear his chosen name in Barba's mouth, so different outside of the precinct.

 Sonny hadn't thought that far ahead, honestly. He'd half expected Barba to decline the request, chalking it up to Sonny having one too many and wanting to relieve some of his excess physical tension. He was in a far too honest mood to be having this conversation, and when he opened his mouth it felt like teetering on the edge of a cliff with nothing to hold onto before the inevitable fall to his doom.

 "I can't sleep. I can't get out of my head." He looked down at where his hands were locked together in his lap. He'd run out of beer and didn't want to look desperate enough to turn to the wine he'd offered to Barba. "I just - I hoped you could help." 

 A playful smile came to Barba's face and he tried to mask it by returning to his wine glass. "And how do you propose I might do that?"

 It was as though the floodgates had open now that Sonny had begun letting little truths slip through his fingers. "I like it when you get bossy. I should've known from the minute I met you that that'd be your strong suit."

 The rest of Barba's wine was gone now, and he licked his lips slightly to chase the remaining flavor of the rich red liquid. Sonny suddenly felt hot all over, hoping that it wasn't visible across his features.

 "Please," Sonny whispered, offering no follow up.

 Barba leaned in then, pressing their lips together. It was as though the entire day had led up to this, and Sonny fought the urge to sigh immediately into Barba's mouth. For a moment it felt almost as though the kiss was chaste, as though Barba was tending to the tearing in Sonny's nerves. It wasn't long before the kiss deepened, Barba's hands sliding up Sonny's back to weave into the soft, still damp strands of his hair. Sonny quietly resented the fact that he was graying, perhaps brought on by stress, but the way Barba practically petted him chased that worry from his thoughts every time.

 Barba's tongue was sliding into his mouth now, and his hand ran down Sonny's back to slither underneath the threadbare cloth of his t-shirt, playing across his stomach and ribs. It was almost more than he'd dared to imagine, catching him off guard already. He allowed Barba to ease him down against the couch cushions to lie on his back. Sonny's long legs splayed open to allow Barba in between them as his hand slid even further up to card through the hair on Sonny's chest. Their mouths moved insistently against each other, though slower than their usual encounters. Sonny couldn't hold back a moan as Barba's fingers closed gently around one of Sonny's nipples, shirt still in place but now rucked up over his belly.

 "Does that feel good?" Barba whispered, hotly kissing over to Sonny's ear. Sonny didn't trust his voice and instead bobbed his head quickly, as though almost in fear that Barba might stop. He could feel himself straining through his sweatpants now, through the briefs he'd worn because tomorrow would be a long overdue laundry day. "It looks like it feels good," Barba said, smiling against his neck. "It looks like it feels really fucking good," he corrected himself, voice gone dark.

 He was now helping Sonny shuck off his shirt, kissing down his neck to bite at Sonny's collarbone and chest. Sonny fought the urge to thrust upward, trying to get friction on his cock other than the rub of his sweatpants as they began to grow increasingly more uncomfortable. Barba's mouth was wet and warm on his nipples as he teased them to stiff, spit-slick peaks with his teeth. Barba liked to use a lot of teeth, more so than any woman Sonny had ever been with. The roughness was enough to make him gasp.

 "You make wonderful noises," Barba praised, and Sonny practically keened in his throat to hear it. "Not shy at all when you feel good."

 "No," Sonny stammered out in agreement. Barba was now dragging his fingers through the coarse hair across Sonny's belly, the hair that led down to the fine nest of pubic hair he'd find underneath the layer of gray jersey fabric between them. Barba still had all of his clothes on, save for the suit jacket, and Sonny caught himself internally pleading for the feel of their completely bare skin together. _All in good time_ , Sonny imagined Barba chiding him gently. Sonny couldn't speak anyway, not with the way Barba's tongue was in his mouth, occasionally dragging across the backs of Sonny's teeth. He made a soft, growling noise as he slid one hand underneath the sweatpants, brushing frustratingly over Sonny's cock through the layer of his briefs.

 "Should I take these off?" he asked teasingly, already knowing what the answer would be as he gave Sonny's cock a slight squeeze. Sonny nodded, incautious now in his responses knowing it was exactly what the other man wanted. Barba pressed a soft kiss to Sonny's lips, slowing now in his frenzy to slip off both Sonny's pants and underwear. His erection sprang free almost immediately, and he panted as he felt Barba's hand grasp it in his hand with confidence. He thrust upward into his grip, only to feel Barba's free hand coax his hips back down against the cushions. "Slow down. Let me take care of you."

 This was different, Sonny thought, though not unfavorably so by any means.

 Barba gave him several slow, leisurely strokes as though they had all the time in the world, as though Sonny wasn't on the verge of coming apart underneath his hands. He was shaking all over, trying to get his legs wider to allow more access for quicker movements of Barba's hand between them.

 "God," Sonny gasped, scrabbling for purchase on the couch, momentarily wishing he had more to grab onto. Now Barba was kissing down the front of his throat, sucking bruises where he knew they could be hidden beneath the collars of button ups until they faded and he knew Sonny would want them back.

 His mouth moved downward quickly, and he gave a long, slow lick to the underside of Sonny's cock. This too was new, somehow something Barba had never done to him. It was a shame it had taken this long, Sonny thought, never wanting the sensation to end. His mind was swimming, and he knew he was groaning uncontrollably as Barba took him fully into his mouth, clearly practiced. Now both of his large hands were gripping Sonny's hips, sure to leave bruises there as well, trying to prevent Sonny from bucking up to choke him.

 Barba's mouth was now sliding up and down his length, tongue playing on the underside of the head on each stroke, moaning appreciatively at the choked sounds Sonny was making above him. Sonny couldn't help from dragging his fingers through Barba's dark hair, and had to clench his eyes tightly closed as Barba looked up from between his legs to stare at him with his pupils blown.

 His hands now ventured away from the fronts of Sonny's hips, back to grasp at the firmness of his ass, taking big, almost greedy handfuls and spreading him slightly. He pulled off of Sonny's cock, an obscene strand of spit connecting them momentarily.

 "Is this what you want, Sonny?"

 "Yes," Sonny asked, not needing words to specify exactly what. "Yes, please," he gasped. This had been done to him so few times - and only by Barba - that it made him briefly nervous each time. Barba kissed him softly on the mouth, and Sonny was slightly thrilled to taste himself on the other man's tongue. "I - I don't have anything to - " he stuttered, rubbing himself against Barba's body, feeling woefully underprepared. Barba looked slightly contemplative, until a thought burst into Sonny's mind. He rummaged underneath the cushion beneath him, producing a bottle of lotion he'd used to try to ease some of the winter-dried skin from his hands. "Is this - can you - " His mouth was not cooperating with him tonight, shot with lust and sodden in alcohol.

 "It'll work," Barba said, practically dismissive. "Lift your hips for me," though he was soon helping Sonny do so.

 They had never done this part face to face before, and Sonny could feel anxiety skittering through his body now.

 "Relax for me," Barba soothed, sensing the apprehension immediately. He was rolling his sleeves up, exposing his forearms. Sonny squirmed, knowing he was exposed to Barba's patient gaze. When his sleeves were up to his satisfaction, he began methodically slicking his fingers, taking care to warm them. The patience made Sonny's breath catch in his throat. He circled the tight furl of Sonny's hole with one slickened finger, as though tracing it, asking for permission. Sonny continued to squirm, both afraid and wanting more. Barba dipped the pad of one finger into Sonny, almost experimentally. When Sonny didn't resist, he carefully slid his index finger into the heat of Sonny's body, making Sonny whimper.

 "Don't worry. Just let me in," Barba told him kindly, though his voice was thick. For the first time, Sonny looked down to see that Barba's slacks were tented. This was all outdoing his wildest dreams - the other times had been rushed, almost frenzied, just two bodies taking what they wanted from one another, aided by booze and tension. That part had seemed to melt away for now, perhaps from the slow pace, perhaps from Sonny's admission of the stress of the day. Either way, he was thankful for the shift.

 He realized he had been holding his breath throughout this part, and he let out a slow exhale upon Barba's encouragement.

 "Your body is so greedy for me," Barba reflected, pushing another finger inside of Sonny's hole, rubbing the soft swath of skin between his balls and his hole idly with his thumb. Sonny jerked at the new sensation. "You're so tight, but you want this so badly." Sonny nodded quickly, his eyes suddenly wide and searching for Barba's face.

 Barba let the two fingers scissor apart briefly, letting Sonny get used to the stretch, preparing him for what he knew would eventually come next. Sonny took a deep breath in through his mouth before releasing it almost immediately. "Yes," he exhaled on his next breath. "Yes, I want you so bad."  

 "Soon," Barba murmured in agreement, kissing the corner of his mouth where it had dropped open. "I'm going to fuck you when I decide you're ready for it." Sonny hummed gratefully in the back of his throat with the promise of being pushed into, being made to fit Barba's cock. "Like that idea? Like thinking about me fucking you hard?"

 At the same time, he crooked his fingers inside of Sonny, brushing his prostate at first before rubbing surely over it. Sonny cried out, feeling heat bursting through all of his synapses, and he couldn't help but push back against the fingers inside of him. This time, Barba didn't move to steady him by the hip. "F-fuck!" he whimpered, seeing a small dribble of precome spill across his stomach.

 "That's it," Barba said, reaching up with his free hand to close it lightly around Sonny's neck. "Like watching you fall apart for me like this."

 "Please, take your clothes off," Sonny rasped, his thighs shaking from the force of keeping them open enough for Barba to get deeper into him with his sure hand. "I want to see you, please."

 Barba pulled away, making Sonny whimper at the loss. He stood, walking to Sonny's bedroom briefly. Sonny's mind was racing, and he struggled valiantly to catch his breath. Barba returned shortly with a condom between his thumb and forefinger. Sonny appreciated the forward thinking. Barba laid the condom on the coffee table, amid the graveyard of empty beer cans, and began patiently picking apart the myriad buttons down his vest and then shirtfront.

 He was not putting on a show of undressing, but even so, Sonny felt like he was drowning in something very hot. He admired Barba's body, including the soft curve of his belly. Barba kicked off his shoes and toed out of his socks, and Sonny found himself puzzling over how he hadn't realized just how many goddamn clothes the other man had been wearing. Soon all that was left were his pants, and Sonny's breath caught in his throat with excitement as Barba lowered the zipper, soon stepping out of both his pants and underwear unceremoniously. He appeared to be just as hard as Sonny was from the attention he'd been showing him thus far, and it made pleasure swim through Sonny's body.

 Barba was stroking himself now to the sight of Sonny on his back, legs splayed, hole exposed and wet. "You look so good and ready for me. I can't wait to take you."

 "I am - please," Sonny said, knowing he was begging now. "Please, I don't want to wait anymore."

 "Neither do I," Barba said, settling back between Sonny's legs. He unwrapped the condom with steady fingers, rolling it slowly down his length. He then began slicking his cock, taking the time to - perhaps selfishly - give himself a few extra strokes. "Do you want this?"

 Sonny wordlessly nodded, eyes scrunched tight.

 "Tell me. Tell me how much you want this." If nothing else, he could appreciate the need for affirmative, eager consent, knowing they were both instinctively cautious these days. The job never really left you behind, never left you a moment for a night off just to take, to revel in greed for a few moments.

 Sonny's eyes were now open, and he placed a shaky hand on Barba's now-bare thigh, reveling in the feel of the flesh that was now available to him. He could see the bruises of fingerprints on his own thighs, and he was struggling for words. "I want you to fuck me so bad," he sputtered. "Been thinking about this all night - you inside me. Please, _please_."

 Barba practically fucking purred, and the sound would seem almost ludicrous if the slick tip of his cock wasn't pressing now against Sonny's ass. "That's good," he whispered, easing into Sonny in one smooth movement. The swift intrusion made Sonny cry out, his head thrown back against the couch, narrowly missing banging the back of his skull against its arm. In the smallest part of the back of his mind, Sonny thanked his stars that he hadn’t knocked himself unconscious. He made no effort to correct his position, baring his throat to Barba.

 He took a few shuddery breaths, willing his body to adjust to Barba's cock. He was shaking all over, as though he were terribly cold. Barba began gently rolling his hips, almost too slowly for Sonny's taste, but he appreciated the attention to his pleasure, and the allowances Barba made for the fact that he was the only one who got to see Sonny like this - on his back, being stretched open to fit. Sonny took Barba's hand in his, closing it around his throat, coaxing his fingers to tighten as Barba's hips began snapping more quickly against Sonny's ass.

 "Like that?" Barba said hoarsely, squeezing Sonny's throat gently, making him slightly lose his breath. He could feel Sonny's pulse beating frantically in his fingers, could feel the vibrations of Sonny keening deeply from his lungs. "Look at you. So eager. Almost whorish for me." Sonny nodded, mouth slightly ajar and gasping. He knew he was flushing all over, the tips of his ears burning hot, color spilling down to the top of his chest. He felt stained all over, too far gone to be ashamed by the accuracy of Barba's words. His cock was bobbing, untouched, between their bodies as Barba leaned in to press their mouths together, stealing even more of Sonny's breath, and Sonny felt another spurt of precome join the rest on his stomach. His legs had been hoisted further as Barba kissed him more deeply, and the new angle had him whimpering as Barba pressed further inside of him.

 "Let go for me, sweetheart," Barba encouraged, releasing Sonny's throat and allowing him to take deep, gusty breaths again. The endearment made Sonny's flush deepen. He twined his fingers together with Sonny's, guiding their hands around to grasp Sonny's cock. He was so hard it was almost painful, shaking with the effort of not coming yet. He wanted this to last, and didn't trust himself to let go. Sonny let out a guttural moan as Barba helped him to begin stroking. "I'm close, and I know you are too." Sonny stuttered out an agreement, and Barba's thrusts became faster, almost punishing were it not for the tender kisses Barba was pressing to his forehead.

 "I'm so fucking close," Sonny whimpered, almost pleadingly, looking down at the space where their hands pulled at his cock, and further down at the place where their bodies joined together.

 "Say my name, Sonny," Barba breathed hotly into his ear. "Tell me how close you are."

 Sonny searched his mind, trying to have a coherent thought for once tonight. "R-Rafael, I - "

He nearly couldn't finish when he heard the moan that hearing his first name tore out of Rafael. "I'm gonna come, I - " He didn't know if he should beg for permission, but Rafael ground his hips the deepest yet and bit down at the juncture of Sonny's neck and shoulder. Sonny cried out, making a sound like a wounded animal as he came hard between their bodies, come smearing across both of their bellies.

 Rafael's thrusts continued, though now increasingly uncoordinated. "I - tell me if I need to stop," he warned. "So close. You feel so good."

 Sonny reached up with a trembling hand, rubbing his thumb across Rafael's bottom lip. He gasped, his spent cock giving one last overstimulated twitch against his belly as Rafael sucked the tip of his thumb into the wet, gasping cavern of his mouth. Sonny's eyes locked with his and he panted out, "use me, please, use me to feel good."

 "You're such a good boy," Rafael rasped, slamming into Sonny one more time before coming, collapsing clumsily against his body.

 They laid together, catching their breaths, for a moment as Rafael softened enough to slip out of Sonny. Rafael left his side, getting to his feet to wet a washrag from Sonny's bathroom. He returned, gently cleaning Sonny with the wet rag. Someone should care for him, Rafael noted to himself, seeing the hollows under Sonny's closed eyes, the raised ridges of his ribs. In the afterglow, Sonny seemed dazed, and he felt the temporarily forgotten beer swirling in his insides. He felt unraveled. He felt like he had been burned alive and left behind as ashes, more nameless and faceless than ever.

 Rafael dressed wordlessly, smoothing his clothing once more, looking composed as ever even with his hair slightly awry and a slight sheen of sweat remaining on his forehead.

 Rafael helped him to his feet, leading him into his bedroom once he had been cleaned, with Sonny's sweatpants and t-shirt draped over his arm. He pressed a glass of cool water into Sonny's hands, making sure he drank the entire glass before proceeding. Sonny swayed on the heels and balls of his feet as Rafael helped him to redress, tucking him back into his pants, lifting his arms gently to help him put his shirt on. Rafael winced at the red and bruised imprint of his teeth on Sonny's shoulder, fighting the urge to stroke it with two fingers to see if it hurt as badly as it looked. Sonny's eyes were bleary, and he looked ill-composed beyond the usual post-sex rumple.

 Rafael leaned up, briefly, tenderly cupping Sonny's cheek as he dropped a close-mouthed kiss to his lips. It was oddly subdued, given the events in the living room. "Let's get you into bed, hmm?" he said softly, directing Sonny by the shoulders.

 Once they had reached the bed, Rafael lifted the rumpled comforter of Sonny's unmade - as usual, much to the chagrin of his ma for his entire life - bed, helping him underneath it. He fluffed the pillow beneath Sonny's head, running his fingers through his hair. "Go to sleep."

 Sonny's eyes were pleading. "Please, Rafael. _Please_ , stay with me," he said, his voice shaky.

 "I have to go," Rafael said, still petting Sonny. "You need to sleep this off."

 "I'm okay, I just - I want you here," Sonny said, unsure what he was asking for, feeling pathetic. There was a pulling feeling in his gut. He wanted to sink into the bed and disappear if Rafael wasn't sliding beneath the covers with him.

 Rafael gave a soft sigh, coming out as a sad huff. "Sonny, please. If you call me, be sober. I'd come. It would be nice to hear from you outside of work if I didn't have a liquor store to thank for it afterward." There was an edge in his voice that Sonny couldn't place - bitterness? Sadness? Pity? Any of the options made Sonny feel sick to his stomach.

 "It's not like that," he whispered, though it came out as more of a slur. He intertwined their fingers in a last-ditch effort to get Rafael to stay - stay the night, or at least stay until Sonny finally fell asleep. "I don't mean it to be like that," he conceded after some reconsideration.

 Rafael smiled at the protest, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'll wait for you to prove that, if it's all the same to you." He bent at the waist and kissed Sonny's clammy temple. "Go to sleep, Sonny. Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow." The _maybe_ landed more indelicately than intended, and Sonny hid his flinch in the pillow. Rafael released their fingers. "Good night," he said gently, leaving the bedroom, unfastening Sonny's locks before exiting. The sound of the front door somehow seemed louder than Sonny had ever heard it, and he couldn't will his body to drag itself up to lock the door again.

 He laid in bed, the lights and sounds in the street unceasing as usual. He tangled his fingers in the sheets, letting a heavy sigh, dropping into an uneasy, fitful sleep. Maybe tomorrow he would feel better.


	2. ii. with the better part of me no longer mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injury and an unexpected visit.

The perp had been rough, unexpectedly so, unexpectedly enough that Sonny had taken a fist to the mouth and the butt of a pistol to the temple during the on-foot pursuit. The skin there had burst and bruised upon contact, and his lip had split. He'd collapsed to the ground, gasping and marveling only a little about just how much blood the human head could hold.

 In hindsight, Sonny could assume he should've known better than to tear off down the block after yet another of Manhattan's most lethal pimps - the guy had strangled women with his bare hands, six of them, each more mangled than the last. He'd laughed as he'd handily pummeled Sonny's face. The sound made him nauseous at the time and as it echoed in the recesses of his mind after the fact.

 At least battering and bloodying Sonny had taken enough time for the rest of the squad to show up and take the guy into custody, even as Sonny laid out on the sidewalk seeing stars. He'd felt like a sacrificial lamb as the cuffs snapped on, Miranda rights sounding fuzzy to Sonny's own ears. His vision was swimming - save for the stars, of course.

 Lieu had hovered over him, concerned and _tsk_ ing at the blood trailing quickly down his face to soak in the collar of his button down and the fine material of his suit jacket. It was impractical to chase someone in a suit, Sonny noted, and he'd certainly be owing his dry cleaner a pretty penny or two to get these stains out. Lieu had helped him to his feet, in the process of yelling for someone to get a bus in there. He'd instinctively put his hand up, pulling them away with a viscous sheen of blood spilled across two fingers. He'd recoiled, doubling over at the sight of his own blood. It was one thing to find crumpled bodies mangled in dumpsters. It was another to see what had come from him. Sonny fought the urge to vomit, barely avoiding it.

 It had taken lucky seven stitches to close the wound by his eye, and Sonny felt every one of them as the needle punched through his skin, drawing the ragged edges flush against one another. The skin around his eye was blackened. He felt laughably monstrous now as he studied himself in the mirror, the recently-opened bottle of vodka in his hand allowing him to laugh darkly at his own reflection. Sonny studied himself in the mirror, taking a moment to savor the fact that he looked tough. He prodded the edges of the bruise with two fingers, wincing at the sting he'd clearly underestimated.

 He'd had two drinks and was tucking into the third. Lieu had told him to take a mandatory two days off to recover, and he hadn't fought. The thought of popping one of his stitches in the middle of a mundane stack of paperwork was dreadful enough that he conceded, for once, to take a few days to wallow around his apartment. He'd deliberately not told anyone in his family about this whole mess, and the part of him that remained a sweet, doting Italian son flinched at his increasing tendency to avoid caused a spike of Catholic guilt to rush through him each time he picked up his phone and set it back down before texting or dialing.

 Sonny was drinking vodka and Sprite tonight, deciding to indulge himself in more than his typical fare. He'd earned a bit of indulgence, he supposed - a gory head wound seemed like something to celebrate. He stretched out on the couch, plaid flannel pajamas pooling around him. He had stripped off everything up top save for his undershirt. Blood was still splashed around the neckline, drying dark brown and stiffening. It didn't bother him now that the color was changing, somehow slipping his mind that it had gushed out of him.

 He hadn't eaten, appetite gone dry as well. Three drinks was enough to make him bone tired, but thankfully more relaxed than he'd anticipated - too relaxed even to worry the frayed skin of his bottom lip. Sonny hadn't even turned the television in, instead leaning his head back against one of the throw pillows he'd picked up on impulse in a Bed Bath and Beyond when he was self-conscious of the nondescript box of his apartment. His eyes closed, and he clasped his fingers together on top of his stomach. This would have to do.

 Some time later there was a soft knock at the door, and Sonny blinked his eyes open. He fumbled for his discarded watch on the coffee table and found he had drifted off to sleep for about twenty minutes. It was nice to carve out even the smallest few minutes of uninterrupted sleep. His eyes felt uncomfortably dry. He almost wondered if he had imagined the knock, due to its softness, but after a few moments, it was followed by another. Unexpected knocks always startled Sonny, making him feel more than a little silly.

 His mixed vodka sweated in an oversized plastic souvenir cup he'd gotten years ago at a Mets game, temporarily forgotten and rapidly going lukewarm on the coffee table. Sonny picked it up, nearly gracelessly spilling it on the carpet. He took a bigger gulp than intended before heading to answer the door. He squinted through the peephole, momentarily afraid that he'd find someone less than savory waiting for him in the hall.

 Rafael stood on the other side, glancing expectantly over his shoulder for a moment before turning his attention back to the door.

 "Shit," Sonny breathed through his mouth before he could stop himself.

 He cracked the door open, trying not to sway on his feet.

 "Hi," he said shortly, not sure how to greet Rafael.

 It had been several weeks since the incident after the trial, the one where Rafael had taken him apart piece by piece on the couch after court, the one where Sonny had pleaded and begged like a child not to be left alone in his bed as though waiting for some type of bogeyman that only went for grown ups. He'd woken up alone, of course, brain pounding traitorously in his skull as light streamed through the blinds. It had been a long weekend, even with a new, satisfying ache in his body to savor.

 In the subsequent weeks, Rafael had regarded him distantly, almost coldly, and only professionally when absolutely necessary. He had avoided going to dinners or drinks with the rest of the squad, even when directly invited after handily winning a case, making him the man of the hour. He made everything look so easy, making him the subject of Sonny's envy and ire even when he felt hurt inside at the rejection. Each time Rafael had looked past him, it stung, particularly coupled with the memory of Rafael making over him, making him feel like some type of worthy, lovely thing.

 Even Amanda had remarked on the distance between the two of them. She had put away more than her fair of whiskey and Cokes, elbows leaned comfortably against the bar. Sonny mentally kicked himself for the times he'd pined over her - she'd actually become a better friend than he'd have imagined, trading dive bar therapy sessions when they both had a rare free evening, even when Sonny couldn't give her exact truths.

 "He seems tense," she had mused, twirling the plastic stirrer in her drink before taking another mouthful and successfully hiding a flinch at the taste. The bartender had gone progressively heavier-handed on each pour. It was as though they both reeked with the innate stress of having a hard job, perhaps imperceptible to anyone but a seasoned enough bartender. "Of course, who knows what's going on in Barba's head? He's half machine. But damn, I thought you guys liked each other now."

 Sonny had shaken his head, offered a shrug. "I don't know. Probably just stressed."

 Amanda had rolled her eyes, movements exaggerated by her old friend Johnny Walker. It was true what people said about taking the girl out of the South and all that. "We're all stressed, Carisi," she said, leaning in toward him almost conspiratorially. "Stress doesn't justify being a dick." They both laughed, though Sonny felt a slight pang of guilt in doing so, remembering the feel of Rafael kissing his forehead tenderly as he moved inside of him. He'd gone home from the bar that night and worked his fist desperately over his cock, barely able to get his pants down before taking himself in hand, veins gone hot with lust.

 And now here Rafael stood, looking calm as ever, even after weeks of almost-silence. He'd winced at the state of the detective the moment Sonny had opened the door, but forced himself to make eye contact with Sonny despite the mess of his face.

 "Hello," he said, even and almost casual. "That looks like it hurts."

 "It did," Sonny agreed, unfailingly honest. Very little hurt at the moment, thanks to that faithful oversized Mets cup. He kicked himself a little for the state he was in, but to be fair, this had not been a planned visit.

 They stood in a few beats of silence before Rafael cleared his throat. "Can I come in, then?"

 Sonny made no verbal agreement, just stood simply to the side to allow Rafael inside. He must have come straight from work; his briefcase was under one arm, and his tie still looked immaculately done, neat around his throat. Sonny found himself embarrassed at what he imagined to be the look of himself, dressed in a thin, blood stained shirt and pajamas, probably reeking of not-exactly top shelf vodka. It was not quite dark outside yet. He'd not expected anyone to question his judgment.

 "I was asleep," he said, as though this excused his rumpled appearance.

 "In a distillery?" Rafael said, regarding him with one raised eyebrow. Normally it might have made Sonny smile. Tonight it did the opposite.

 "I didn't ask you to come here," Sonny snapped, more sharply than intended, though he didn’t feel any guilt for his tone. "If it bothers you, you've picked the wrong night."

 Rafael raised both of his hands as if to indicate he came in peace. "That's not what I said."

 Sonny tried to clamp down on the hot curl of anger that was building inside of him. "You didn't have to. I remember from the last time you were over." He felt almost petulant, and he knew that if he let anger get the best of him, Barba would view it as a tantrum. Sonny had never been good at fuming, at least outwardly, choosing to keep it under his usual cheer and positive demeanor. It was dangerously close to slipping through the cracks right now.

 For his part, Rafael made no effort to disagree with the statement. "I heard about what happened to you today. I thought I would come over and see how you were doing. From the looks and sound of it, you've got it under control." He made no effort to move any further into the apartment. It was slightly dim, the last remaining strands of sunlight dwindling away outside and mingling with the soft light of the end table lamp beside the couch.

 "I do."

 Rafael gave a single satisfied nod, though Sonny could tell his eyes hadn't stopped raking over him, carefully cataloging each of the new wounds. He'd have a small scar next to his eye now; the thought of a permanent reminder made Sonny feel damaged, knowing it would show all over his face, worry his family. "Well, then I'll leave you to it," he said, short and turning toward the door.

 Before he could stop himself, Sonny gave an exasperated huff. "That's not what I meant," Sonny said, trying to get between Rafael and the door. "I just - I know I'm not - " he said, struggling to find words. The veil of vodka hung over him, but he felt it lift just slightly to give the illusion of sobriety he knew Rafael had hoped to find here.

 "You didn't even change your shirt," Rafael observed mildly.

 "It's ruined anyway," Sonny said, unapologetically dismissive with a shrug of one shoulder. Neither of them had moved from the door.

 "There's dried blood on your neck. In your hair, too."

 Sonny hadn't cared when he left the hospital, content to be driven home in an unmarked squad car before stripping off the less comfortable clothing items before flopping uselessly onto the couch. He'd barely moved except to put on his pajamas, fix a couple of drinks, and stare disparagingly at his reflection in the mirror for a moment.

 "Showering wasn't high on my list tonight. I was tired."

 Rafael's face wrinkled. They stood in a terse silence for another few moments. "You could let me help you."

 Sonny rolled his eyes. "I thought we agreed we weren't going to do this anymore," he said, almost snidely, parroting the text Rafael had sent him the other night before acquiescing and coming over anyway. He'd be lying if he said he weren't a little excited at the prospect, though.

 "Spare me the stubbornness for once and let me help you, Carisi," Rafael said, nudging Sonny in the direction of the bathroom and forcing Sonny to allow himself to be followed. Rafael was already in the process of shrugging off his suit jacket and setting aside his tie, rolling his sleeves up. "I'll run you a bath." Sonny turned to blink at Rafael over his shoulder. "Don't make that face. Let me," Rafael ordered, and Sonny was glad he could hold himself steady enough not to shudder.

 He stood awkwardly in the doorway, watching Rafael putter around in the bathroom to fill the bathtub. Sonny was glad he'd spent more than a few minutes scrubbing out the shower and bathtub last weekend, lest he draw another disapproving look out of Rafael.

 Once the tub was filled, Rafael stood up again, looking at Sonny expectedly. Sonny swallowed, shucking off his stained undershirt, draping it unconcernedly over the side of the sink. He flushed a little to find himself hardening as though by reflex under Rafael's gaze, and he stepped out of the pajama pants, letting them pool around his feet. He looked down at his feet, trying to think of less arousing things than the way Rafael's eyes raked over his body. He gestured for Sonny to get into the tub, and Sonny complied, even if it was only to hide himself.

 The heat of the water around him - at the edge of too hot, though not unbearable - was sublime. He sighed in relief.

 Rafael disappeared for a moment, dragging in a small varnished footstool that sat immediately outside of the bathroom door. Sonny had made it in his woodshop class in high school, sanded it perfectly and fussed over it for weeks at a time. He'd gotten an A for once, a first of the times he'd ever had to create something from scratch with his bare hands, and still got an adolescent swell of pride in his chest every time he looked at it. It was for that reason that he had dragged it with him from dorm room to apartment to apartment, on and on throughout the years. To see Barba sitting on the humble little class project in the middle of his bathroom felt surreal.

 Sonny had remained sitting up in the bathtub, water sloshing up over his waist with each subtle movement and adjustment of his body. He felt awkward, as though waiting for further instruction. Rafael hummed in the back of his throat, finding Sonny's empty water glass on the side of the sink next to his toothbrush.

 "I'll do it," Sonny protested and tried to sit up, seeing Rafael pick up his modest drugstore shampoo and conditioner.

 "Don't," Rafael said, putting one hand up and using the other to cup the strong curve of Sonny's left shoulder. "Just let me do it." Sonny felt he had no choice but to wait obediently, making no movement this time. Rafael dipped the cup unceremoniously into the full bathtub, filling it with water. He laid the edge of one hand at Sonny's hairline to shield his eyes from the warm water, and poured the glass to wet Sonny's hair. He sighed again at the warmth. "See?"

 Sonny made a little noise of agreement but made no move to speak, as though afraid to shatter the lazy, steamy calm in the bathroom. The humidity seemed to be seeping in, sedating him pleasantly. Rafael squeezed shampoo in his hand, working it gently through Sonny's hair, starting where the blood had crusted over in the gray-blonde strands.

 "Let me know if I hurt you," Rafael said, almost impossibly kind despite the initial disdain Sonny had thrown his way when he'd arrived.

 "I will."

 He continued lightly scrubbing Sonny's scalp, easing out the product he'd used that morning, which now felt eons away. It felt that years had passed since he'd left for work, not knowing he'd be back at home licking his wounds before sundown. Rafael filled another cup of water, rinsing out the suds, and the wetted bubbles flowed down the nape of his neck and further down his spine, coming to further dissolve in the water behind him. Rafael moved on to the conditioner now. The feeling of his hands carding through Sonny's wet hair and against his scalp now made him shudder openly. This was always his favorite part of getting his hair cut, and the feeling of Rafael hunched over the tub tending to him in this way felt terribly intimate, more so than anything he'd ever shared with a girlfriend or one night stand.

 Once the conditioner was rinsed out, Rafael coaxed him to lie back in the water with a gentle hand. It only added to the feeling of comfort that raced through him.

 Rafael built up a lather of Sonny's bar soap in a now-wetted washrag he'd found hanging on the towel bar across from the sink, and passed it across Sonny's neck and collarbone, where the blood had dried. It flaked off of his skin with each movement, speckling the suds as the slid down his body.

 "See? Feels better already," Rafael encouraged lightly. For all of his hard edges in court, in the precinct - actually, pretty much anywhere outside of the seclusion of Sonny's tiny, humble apartment - Rafael felt impossibly gentle right now. Sonny nodded his head, feeling abruptly tired, wondering if he could find his tired voice.

 Sonny leaned back further, feeling the warm water cradling the back of his head, taking care not to get any in his ears.

 "My father was the most fun drinker when I was growing up," he found himself saying, voice sounding far away to his own ears. He wondered what had made him think of it, to dare to share it. "Marine veteran. Union carpenter. All his buddies came over and drank in our garage, listening to baseball and football on this shitty little radio he kept out there." Sonny could practically hear his father's bellowing laugh through the door connecting the kitchen to the garage. He'd heard his father's stories loud and clear, sometimes vulgar but always funny. They'd made his ma blanch sometimes, hearing what his father would say to the whoops and laughter of the other men: _Jesus Christ, Dom, the kids are in here_ , hollered through the door. "He gave me my first beer when I was fourteen. Busch. Smell of it still makes me remember." There was a faraway smile on his face now; he wasn't sure where the nostalgia had crept in, but found himself grateful that a memory other than that of someone small and victimized crying or someone large and threatening and punching him in the face hadn't sneaked in instead.

 Rafael's face didn't seem to have changed, his brow slightly furrowed, lips set determinedly narrow. Sonny hoped it was out of concentration on the task at hand.

 "My father was the least fun drinker," he said, moving to spread more of the dense lather across Sonny's chest. Rafael paused briefly, still focused on cleaning Sonny but carefully choosing his words at the same time. "He was quite angry, and solitary." The response was simple, almost pointed.

 Their eyes met. Sonny tried to imagine a young Rafael, and the thought made something hard settle, sad in the pit of his stomach.

 "Lift your arms, please," Rafael said, helping Sonny to hoist them gracefully above his head so he could soap him there too. It might've been embarrassing, if he could find the energy or mindfulness  to let shame roll over him. He was grateful for that as well. Rafael worked soap down and over his chest and the slight top of his abdomen which peeked out of the water. "There. Almost done," he said, rinsing the soap off of Sonny's body.

 Sonny allowed Rafael to help him safely to his feet, not trusting himself not to waver in the process.

 He stood, wet and naked, waiting for Rafael to towel off his body as he steadied himself on his now-soggy bath mat. He had tried to will his erection away, but it hadn't flagged since Rafael had washed his hair - may have even gotten worse.

 Rafael ran the towel over every crevice of Sonny's body, tactfully avoiding commentary on Sonny's arousal, perhaps seeing the way Sonny flushed up to his ears and practically down to his chest. He rubbed Sonny's hair as dry as he could manage.

 "What happened to him?" Sonny asked, mouth dry and unable to keep curiosity safely contained where it typically belonged. He didn't clarify who he was referring to, but it wasn't needed anyway.

 Rafael turned Sonny to face away from him, soothing his back dry with the towel. "Left when I was eight. Called me slurring on a couple of birthdays after that. Last I heard he drank himself to death in a motel somewhere in Florida." He turned Sonny back around, patting beads of water off of his forehead and cheeks with a nice dry washcloth, taking special care to avoid the wounds near his eye. "Ancient history," he added, an edge of warning in his voice. _No more. Move along._

 The bath had been surprisingly perfect, but now Sonny felt himself floundering, unable to predict what happened next. Rafael seemed to sense his apprehension and leaned in, kissing his cheek on the unblemished side of his face.

 "Thank you," Sonny said, not knowing what else might be considered an acceptable response.

 "Certainly," Rafael said, giving him a smile that made Sonny want to hold onto it and never forget it. "That's what friends are for."

 Sonny sighed in equal portions of contentment and sadness. "Now we're friends?" Rafael didn't answer, simply folding the damp towels and putting them in the hamper. His fastidiousness was remarkable. Sonny wanted to crawl into his life and memorize every strange, wonderful detail about him. Instead he blinked helplessly, trembling ever-so-slightly now that he was out of the tub and rapidly cooling. "What now?"

 Again, Rafael didn't answer, but took his hand and led him toward the bedroom. Sonny had been hoping for some string of actual words, but blindly followed, hoping for more warmth and more comfort. He suddenly pitied his earlier self, the one who had slunk off to his apartment to hide at the bottom of a bottle. Having Rafael here was confusing but felt so good that he didn't take any time to reconsider that this would probably not end well. He found himself greedy for the other man, wanting to be beneath him, to be wrapped in him. Sonny could tell that his neediness was at times palpable, but he knew no way to temper it when his brain was buzzing this way.

 Rafael gave a gentle push, easing Sonny onto his back on the bed. He unbuttoned his own shirt and removed his slacks, leaving himself only in underwear and a thin, soft undershirt. He crawled onto the bed next to Sonny, lying down on his side and resting one large hand in the center of Sonny's freshly washed chest.

"What are we doing?" Sonny said, his voice a sparse whisper.

"Let me," Rafael encouraged. "If you want to," he corrected himself. "We certainly don't have to do anything you don't want to."

 _It could feel like this every time_ , Sonny thought before he could stop himself. He wondered what would happen in a world where he didn't come home to an empty apartment at the end of every day, even during the late nights where he was called away for another atrocity. He felt shabby, ragged. He'd found himself across the table from online dates, blind dates, friends of his sisters, played nice with them, smiled with them, paid for dinner, went home and felt empty. He woke up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat even when he tried to remind himself that the lives of victims were not the life he was living in the safe space of his apartment.

"I want to." _I always want to when it's you_. Sonny balked at his own sentimentality. Sonny tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Rafael's neck, dragging him in to a kiss. He winced at the brush of Rafael's lips against the cut on his own, gasping a little but not moving to pull away.

At the soft sound, Rafael did pull away. "You're hurt," he observed, as though it hadn't been the exact reason he'd come over tonight.

"I don't care," Sonny answered honestly, plaintively. Rafael propped himself up on his elbow, laying a gentle finger on the curve of Sonny's jaw, kissing him again with a gentleness that took Sonny by surprise. Rafael's hand slid up Sonny's bare arm, coaxing it up near his head to wind their fingers together, holding his hand down firmly against the mattress. His other hand rested on Sonny's belly, brushing through the hair leading down to his cock but making no effort to move further.

Sonny felt like he was sinking, desperate not to crumble to pieces this time but already feeling so stripped raw by the events of the day that he felt helpless to prevent it. He let out a shaky breath into Rafael's mouth, knowing he was almost fully hard now. He could feel Rafael's cock resting against his bare hip through the thin fabric of his underwear, a warm and solid weight.

"You can be nice sometimes," the words spilling from Sonny's mouth between kisses before he could stop himself.

Rafael pulled away with a bemused smirk. "I can," he acknowledged, lightly scratching his nails over the firm point of Sonny's hipbone.

"Why?" Sonny asked, somewhat breathless, tensing to try and regain some of his rapidly fading composure.

The question seemed to stump Rafael for a moment, perhaps considering it too easy of an answer that Sonny seemed to inexplicably puzzle over for no reason. "Someone ought to be nice to you sometimes, Carisi," he said, running the pad of one index finger over the side of his bottom lip that hadn't been cut open with the force of a fist. There was a fond look on his face, one that Sonny found himself selfishly pretending might be directed at him outside of this room, outside of this bed, down in the streets, out there in the world.

His hand was around Sonny's cock then, loose grasp then tightening as it worked from the base toward the tip. Sonny let out a low moan, trying to hold his hips still against the mattress the way he knew Rafael liked to start with. Rafael steadied himself on the bed before reaching up with one hand to absently stroke over the front of Sonny's windpipe with a patient, careful thumb. Sonny's mouth dropped open soundlessly. This was the part he fantasized about the most: the way that Rafael played so competently over his throat, the danger of it tempered by the care Rafael took in giving him pleasure and the affection that he found there away from the pressures of work.

Sonny was panting openly. "Please, I - I don't know what I can - "

"You don't have to do anything tonight, Sonny. Just lie back," Rafael soothed, still languidly jerking Sonny's cock. The thought made his cock jump in Rafael's grasp, and he groaned to feel it pulse in his hand. "I'll take care of everything. I know you're tired." He leaned down to kiss Sonny again, cautiously sweeping his tongue inside of Sonny's mouth, swallowing his breathy noises.

"That feels so good," Sonny rasped out, breaking away for a few seconds from Rafael's mouth, sliding his hand into Rafael's free one. "I want you so bad; I just - "

Rafael gently shushed him, pulling away to shrug out of his scant remaining clothes. He parted his own legs, climbing on top of Sonny's body.

"You look good," he whispered, positioning their cocks against each other, slotting their hips together. He slid his hands down Sonny's chest, admiring the broad expanse of lean muscle and soft, pale skin at his disposal. "You look so good."

"Please," Sonny whimpered, not knowing what he was asking for.

Rafael wrapped one hand around both of their cocks, the warm press of skin together almost more than Sonny could take immediately. His toes curled so hard on the first stroke that Sonny feared they might snap and become another entry on his list of today's wounds, though he wasn't entirely sure he would've minded. Rafael ran the fingers of his free hand down through Sonny's still-wet hair, then pressing two of them into the gasping space of his mouth. Sonny sucked greedily at the two, rubbing his tongue across the pads of the index and middle fingers.

He'd never done this motion before to anyone, never had his face pressed between another man's legs, but he'd found himself imagining it starting with Rafael. Sonny had spent more than one period of time on a sleepless night imagining the soft growls and possessive sounds Rafael would make as Sonny sucked him for the first time, how Rafael would pull his hair gently at first but then tighten his hold further when he'd hear how Sonny moaned wantonly around him. It embarrassed him how hard thinking about it made him, how once he'd rutted against his mattress so hard he came in his pajamas like a teenager before he could move along any further.

The slide of their cocks together in Rafael's fist had him screwing his eyes tightly closed. His head was tipped back and Rafael took the opportunity to suck a bruise at his throat. There was still a red mark on his shoulder where he'd bitten Sonny the last time, and he admired how easily the pale skin marked for him.

 "Maybe next time when you're not so tired I'll do more with you," Rafael gritted out, his hips thrusting to get more friction between their two of them. Sonny thought for a split second about the implication of _next time_ but tucked it quickly away to turn his attention back to the feeling of their bodies pressed together.

 "Wh-what would you do?" Sonny asked, shamelessly looking for more, hoping to root around in Rafael's brain to tease out what he thought about at the end of a long day.

 Rafael suddenly seemed far gone enough to forget inhibition, to censor himself in order to have the upper hand on pleasure. "I'd hold you down, hold you open, lick inside of you," he said, rocking their hips together and making Sonny cry out. He'd had a short-lived fling with a girl who'd liked to do that to him, always in the heat of the moment and never discussed afterward even though it had delighted him, made him shudder all over in pleasure so good it left him feeling scalded. He kept it a closely guarded secret, never able to ask for it from anyone else: the feel of a mouth on him where he'd never had the nerve to venture on his own.

 "Jesus," Sonny gasped, the promise ringing unceasingly in his mind.

 "I had a feeling you'd like that," Rafael said, rubbing his fingers across the blush that spilled down Sonny's neck and chest. "You'd look so good squirming against my mouth, and the noises you'd make - " He cut himself off with a soft groan. Sonny reached up to grip Rafael's hips, egging him on to move his hand faster and tighter around the both of them. "And then," he continued after he had regained some of his rational thought, "when you were wet and open for me, I'd slide into you. I'd fuck you hard." Sonny couldn't hold back his moans now, an unending stream, thrusting harder into Rafael's sure grip.

 "Please," Sonny begged, feeling that it was all he had ever been made to say in Rafael's presence. He was shaking, uncoordinated with the intoxicating feeling that had bubbled between the two of them. "I'm so fucking close."

 "Yeah," Rafael encouraged, leaning down again to press their mouths together, desperate to swallow Sonny's moans when he came. He broke away momentarily, running his hand over the top of Sonny's head to feel where his hair spilled across the mattress. "Come for me. You've been such a good boy."

 Sonny let out a guttural sound, almost as though he were in pain, practically thrashing against Rafael. It only took a few more almost-punishing thrusts into Rafael's skilled hand before he spilled across the two of them, smearing across Rafael's fingers where it dripped obscenely over his knuckles.

 "Fuck, I love watching you come," Rafael said hoarsely, still working his hand over their cocks, savoring a last few moments of the heat of them pressed together. Sonny felt his cheeks grow even hotter at the praise. It was everything he'd ever wanted, everything he'd always privately prayed Rafael could give him. "Can I come on you?" he asked, pulling away when he saw Sonny flinch at the continued attention to his cock, bordering on overstimulation.

 Unable to find his voice, Sonny bobbed his head enthusiastically. Rafael's breath was coming through his nose at an almost breakneck pace, his hand flying roughly over himself. Sonny tried to make a mental note of how Rafael liked to handle himself, but his mind seemed irreparably damaged for the time being.

 " _God_ ," Rafael exhaled, almost violently, arching up Sonny's body and coming hotly across his abdomen and chest. He caught his breath for a few moments, dragging two fingers through the warmth and stickiness of his come on Sonny's chest, rubbing in gentle circles.   

 Rafael leaned down, resting his head against Sonny's shoulder as their breaths slowed. Sonny could feel Rafael's thighs trembling with exertion on either side of his body, and he slid his palms tenderly up and down them as Rafael came down from the force of his orgasm. Once he had calmed even slightly, he tilted his head up and kissed Sonny sweetly on the corner of his mouth, turning in further and letting their lips slide together.

 "That was so good," Sonny said, his voice slurred with tiredness, satisfaction, and the residual effects of the night's vodka. "I could feel it down in my toes."

He could feel Rafael smiling against his throat.

 "I wish - I wish I could make this work," Sonny said before taking even a fraction of a moment to reconsider, to stop anything needy from coming out again. Rafael tensed only slightly against him.

 "What do you mean?" Rafael asked calmly, in a way that would almost be insulting to Sonny's intelligence if Rafael hadn't just reduced him to an empty, though satisfied, vessel from the ripping of his climax from his body.

 "I just - I don't know," Sonny abruptly cut himself off. "It's just…you make me feel so good."

 Rafael kissed the bruise mark he'd placed on Sonny's throat earlier. "We can talk about this later," he said, though he admittedly believed he may be making a promise he would be skittish about keeping. He gave another kiss to the underside of Sonny's jaw before rolling off of his body. He returned to the bathroom, finding the washrag he'd foolishly folded and deposited in the hamper earlier. He wetted it again and returned, cleaning the now-cooled come from their bodies. His meticulous side won out and he returned to the bathroom to put it back in with the rest of Sonny's laundry.

 As soon as Sonny heard him return to the bedroom, he'd let out a sleepy sigh and opened his eyes. He'd already begun to doze but a slight sense of panic splashed across his features now. "Please, can you stay with me this time? Please," he said, throwing all of the caution he'd promised himself out through the proverbial window. "I want you here so bad."

 Possibly against his better judgment, Rafael hesitated before crawling back onto the bed beside Sonny. The comforter had now been kicked down around their feet, and Sonny mustered up one last feat of strength and motivation to pull it over the two of their bodies. Sonny threw one ragdoll arm across their bodies, pulling up tightly against Rafael and snuffling a little into his hair. It made something in Rafael feel warm.

 Sonny nuzzled his neck, little mindpower to devote to what had led Rafael to come to his apartment. He supposed it didn't matter this time. He'd spent several days swimming in guilt over Rafael's response to being drunk dialed last time, and to know that it had not been the nail in the coffin brought a sleepy, selfish comfort to him as he began to drift off.

"Good night, Sonny," Rafael said, one hand sliding down Sonny's shoulder to the small of his back, and then back up again in a lazy trail. Sonny made a soft, indecipherable sound in the back of his throat before finally dropping off at last.

It was the best night's sleep he'd had in months.

The next morning, Sonny awakened with a headache that he grudgingly admitted was becoming all too commonplace. He turned on his side, finding his bed disappointingly empty of other occupants. He sighed, rolling over to press his face into the pillow, wishing he'd find it with a scent other than his own. He'd be almost convinced he imagined the entire thing were it not for the faint scent of Rafael's hair clinging to one pillowcase and the small love bite low at the front of his throat where it would be mercifully hidden by shirts he'd wear to work. Only the two of them would ever know it was there.

 _Hell of a metaphor_ , Sonny thought, almost bitterly as he padded through his apartment, slow this morning to entertain the notion of putting on any stitch of clothing.

The Mets cup sat with two inches of abandoned vodka on the coffee table where he'd left it the night before. Sonny carried it to the bathroom and unceremoniously tipped the contents into the sink. The bubbles of the soda had gone flat. Another time.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody in this story needs to cheer up, damn it. In my head, Sonny is not snobby about his drinks - desperate times call for desperate measures. 
> 
> Chapter title is from Joyce Manor's 'Constant Headache.'  
> Thank you all for your kind feedback and words, and thank you again for reading!


	3. iii. for at least i deserve the respect of a kiss goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night trial prep breeds tension.

The further winter crept along, the earlier the twilight came. The days were long, as could of course be expected by their nature, but felt especially so as the weather cooled. It was not unusual for the workdays to stretch on long than normal, leaving the only time for trial prep well after the sun began to fade. The shadows of the dimming sun cast painted stripes across the floor of the courtroom, and Sonny quietly resented their onset. He was ready to be home, ready to shed off the layer of armor he found himself dragging with him throughout the work day. There was a larger cache of domestic beers than he'd care to admit currently hibernating in his fridge, waiting patiently for him with the dedication of a passive housewife.

 In preparation for each trial where he'd been summoned to testify, he found himself grilled prematurely on the stand as practice, a dress rehearsal for being needled about his police skills, his biases, and, sometimes unfortunately, his mental state. On  his better days, Sonny Carisi considered himself a slightly excellent, exceptionally ethical detective, and strove to present himself as such on the stand. It was somewhat of a position of prestige within the trial: the arresting officer, the detective who'd chipped away enough at the story to argue the truth. He agonized over doing it justice and typically appreciated the opportunity to prove himself, and considered himself halfway decent in the art of presenting the dirtiest truths.

 These pre-trial preparations had typically been a breeze, until Rafael Barba had pressed Sonny facedown in his own conservatively priced sheets one night when tensions had run high.

 Sonny had tried to evade the necessity of meeting with Rafael before trial this time, tried to chalk a challenging case up to adherence to routine police procedure. The case of the pimp who'd handily destroyed Sonny's face - at least for a couple of sore weeks - had crossed multiple jurisdictions, crossed the wires of _he said she said_ spider webs,  and posed the significant danger of falling apart if one wrong foot stepped into the stand. Preparation had been inevitable, even though he'd been forcibly nudged into it by the Lieu.

 And so here he sat, legs crossed uncomfortably in the hard wooden seat of the stand, Rafael pacing the front of the courtroom with the practiced gait that came with expertise and more than a little learned showmanship.

 "And you were the first responder on the scene at the time of the arrest, Detective Carisi?" Rafael asked, regarding Sonny with a fixed stare. Sonny could've in that moment forgotten everything that had come before, every blissful, arching second when conditions had aligned enough to be perfect, to allow them space within each other's carefully scheduled lives.

 "I was," he confirmed. It was best to keep the answers as simple and direct as possible. Finesse was not an advantage in the courtroom, at least not for an officer on the stand. Short and sweet. This approach seemed to get the upper hand in every avenue of life these days - no time or space for tarrying.

 "And did you notice anything about the defendant's behavior at the time of the arrest?" Rafael said, almost conversationally.

 "Other than the fact that he smashed my face in?" Sonny couldn't bite back the snide edge in his voice, remembering the raised red mark that still bloomed against the pale skin around his eye. His ma about had a fit when she first saw it, fussing over Sonny with a pronounced lipstick kiss to his temple and a promise of manicotti to take the edge off, along with a pointed comment about wishing he would hurry up and switch over to law practice sooner rather than later. The pain was manageable with the incongruous warmth that came with a cold can of beer or several; he found two of them in the garage fridge with his father before dinner had even started, and several more when he arrived back into the comfortably controlled sanctuary of his apartment after the train ride home.

 Rafael looked exasperated at this response, rounding on his heel so that Sonny could see the subtle, frosty disdain creasing his strong features.

 "Juries don't like smug, Detective Carisi," he warned, tapping two fingertips against the table on the prosecution's side as though to prove a point.

 "Nobody likes smug," Sonny remarked, even though it was a throwaway statement. Rafael rolled his eyes briefly, turning his back again as though to regroup himself. It seemed foreign to him to sit here under the scrutiny of a man who'd seen the most intimate, confused parts of him sprawled on his back in his natural habitat. He felt claustrophobic, wanting to pull at the collar of his shirt to try and let some air in close to him.

 "I suppose not," Rafael said shortly, seeming decidedly less than amused.

 Several minutes of almost banal recap passed, Sonny managing to contain his bored itch to escape the courthouse, to slink back home to the good sense of his apartment. Sonny rubbed at his eyes with the edge of one fingertip, then two.

 "Am I boring you, Carisi?" Barba asked, suddenly more annoyed and less composed than normal. The spark of intensity made Sonny shift uncomfortably in his seat, unsure whether to be excited or to be apprehensive. It had been a long day, the kind that might benefit from a bit of steam-blowing that Sonny had found himself fantasizing about in the quiet moments where he tried to will his body to relax. "Feeling like you have somewhere better to be?" He'd been short like this before, efficient and dedicated in his job with no time to devote to those who regarded his methodical preparation for the spectacle of any trial as more than mere formality.

 Sonny fought the urge to roll his eyes. "It's been a long day," he said, voice flat as he reclined slightly in his chair, hearing the nuts and bolts creak beneath him.

 "They're all long days," Rafael offered, and Sonny couldn't tell if it was borne of empathy or disdain. If a toast had been offered, Sonny would've chimed in on it. He regarded Carisi with an almost withering stare. "This seems fairly straight forward, especially since you can point out the aftermath," he said, gesturing to the general area around his eye, mirroring Sonny's gradually healing wound. "I suppose there's not much further for this to improve."

 The comment caught Sonny off guard, and his eyes reflexively fluttered at the barb of it.

 "If it's an open and shut testimony, then I'd assume it's fine for me to go," he said, unable to keep the coldness out of his tone. He adjusted in his seat, adjusting the bottom of his vest as though to challenge Rafael somehow, as though posturing in respectable work clothing was the way to intimidate a man who dressed in a suit that probably cost a sizeable chunk of Sonny's student loan payment.

 Rafael hung his head in consideration for a moment, a gesture not resigned but simply contemplative. "You're finished here, Detective," he said, with a small, tight sweep of his wrist. "Go home." There was an implication in the two-word statement, both of them knowing what typically awaited him past the threshold of his front door - carbonation, hops, a touch of malt and no dinner.

 Sonny sat plainly in his seat on the stand, waiting to see if this may somehow be a trap, with another hope he couldn't quite put a name to.

 "And what are you going to do?" he asked in what he hoped to be a casual tone. It didn’t matter what Rafael was going to do, though it made something in the pit of his stomach ache to think that whatever it was would not be in his own company. He stood from his seat on the stand, redoing the buttons down the front of his suit jacket, trying not to look ruffled by the sharp exchanges in what should have been strictly a measured exchange of data. Their eyes met from across the room as Rafael neatly stacked the reviewed case files in his briefcase with the air of a man controlling enough to only do his own filing.

 His gaze was steady, locked with Sonny's as though he had never been flustered a day in his life. "I'm going to sit in my office for a few moments; it's the quietest place I've found in the city," he said honestly, tucking the briefcase under his arm.

 Sonny's Adams apple wavered as he took a patient swallow, though he could feel his nerves twitch as the next request burst past his lips. "What's it take to get an invitation to that?" he asked, making sure their eyes remained locked. It was not an alluring way to ask, and he chided himself for thinking even for a moment that such a ruse might work. Truth be told, he still hadn't managed to shake off the thoughts of Rafael wrapped around him in his own bed, even if he'd slinked off in the night, leaving a dip in the pillow he'd rested on and the aroma of his expensive, particular shampoo there, almost as an apparition. It had been so long since he'd shared that space with another person. It made his stomach warm to think of it.

 Rafael regarded him with a suspicious look. "There's no keg there, Carisi," he quipped, halfway turning to the door. Sonny hid his flinch admirably, having not moved from where he stood with his calves backed against the chair. "That was rude." He did not offer further apology. Sonny assumed it was likely not warranted, if he was being honest. "You know the way there," and he turned again on his heel to leave the courtroom.

 Sonny blinked at his retreating back for a moment before gathering his coat and the other miscellaneous items he'd dragged over from the precinct. Rafael's office was down the hall, his name and title in fine gold lettering across the door. It felt so official. Sonny found himself feeling minutely starstruck for the most split of seconds, always feeling as though he were allowed in a secret club when allowed into the office. _Silly_ , he chided himself, and not for the first time.

 Rafael sat at his desk chair, loosening his tie and rummaging in the well-polished oak cabinet behind his desk. He produced a fine, lightly dusty decanter of warm brown liquor, tipping them each a glass without first asking if Sonny was interested. He wondered what it said about him that the waterline in his glass subtly outranked that in Rafael's, by the other man's doing. His pour was too steady to be a simple slip of the hand. Rafael slid it across the varnished surface of his desk without commentary.

 "Thank you," Sonny said, almost uncertainly, though certainly feeling a slight sheen of guilt at a wish fulfilled.

 They sat in an almost amenable silence, if Sonny had had no context for the visit. He took a tentative first sip and licked his lips exaggeratedly at the taste: scotch, a rare pleasure, saved for when he was feeling especially decadent or trying to impress someone who certainly hadn't learned their drinking habits at the American Legion bar on Staten Island with their father. Dominick Carisi Senior was just the man to get his teenage son good and sauced there merely on the merit of being a _helluva guy_ with a knack for profane limericks. Sonny wished he would've spent more time appreciating a good, easy station in life. Everything was different. Certainly this.

 "I suppose this is safe territory," Rafael remarked, the statement landing almost with a clatter between the two of them. It was an uncomfortable one, and Sonny cleared his throat. The implication that one of them veering into the other's home again weighed heavily, and it stung, if he was being honest.

 Sonny gave a firm nod, although he wanted to do anything but. "Certainly safer than we've had before," he said wryly. He drained two fingers of scotch handily, within an impressive few seconds, practically a dare.

 Rafael's features didn’t betray anything more than a passive response as Sonny set the short scotch glass back down on the table. Rafael was better at sipping, no surprise there. He slid the glass back across to his side of the table, pouring another glass of the bitter brown liquid before passing it back to Sonny. His gaze was stone. Sonny felt his nerves pulsing below his skin, oddly nervous, feeling like he was hiding in foliage while being surveyed by a predator. Rafael didn't need to prompt him; the implication was clear: _drink_.

 "You don't like it when I do this," Sonny remarked, tracing a finger idly around the ring of the glass.

 "It doesn't matter what I like; I know what you like," Rafael countered, but there was no bite to it. Sonny didn't argue, instead taking a pointedly large drink from the glass. He wanted his vision to swim. He wanted the rush of blood in his ears to quiet. He wanted relief to wash over his as he coped with the pressure of Rafael's eyes boring into him. He'd never quite felt this way before: pinned, trapped. It would've been easy to stand, to harvest his belongings from where they scattered around his feet and leave, to retreat down the train line to his apartment. Flight was the easiest thing a creature could do.

 Instead he steeled himself, running his hands through his neatly arranged hair, dragging the strands into disarray.

 "What do you want from me?" Sonny asked, his voice earnest and teetering on the edge of raw. Thankfully the scotch had seeped in a little, helpful in its simplicity.

 Carisi men didn't deal in emotions, lest it were for drinking songs and earnest slaps on the back: _I don't say it enough, son, but I'm proud of you_. His father had graciously stopped asking him to settle down with a nice gal, perhaps assuaged by a gaggle of kids from his sisters, or the romantic idea that Sonny was married to his work. Sonny had learned to present good-natured ease and to stuff the rest, to take it home with him to sift through as well as he could. It sickened him sometimes, the way it sometimes felt natural to adapt.

 Rafael took a moment to consider. "I don't know what I want," he said, ultimately settling on it as the most on-target of available answers. It made the fingers of one of Sonny's hands tense in the slack ridges of fabric on the front of his pants, rumpled from the activities of the day and hoping to be pressed if Sonny could find the energy when he got home.

 "How helpful."

 "I'm sorry to have an inconvenient, muddy answer for you, Detective," Rafael said, though he didn't sound particularly sorry at all. He let out a short breath, steepling the fingers of both hands against one another and briefly touching them to his lips where they joined. "I came to you the other night because I was worried about whether or not you were all right, after what happened. As far as I checked, that's not a legally binding contract."

 Sonny huffed, draining most of the rest of the glass. He wished for ice; it would've made adjusting to the bitterness easier, more palatable. "You were worried about me," he said, turning it over in his mouth as though it was an unfamiliar taste. Drinking scotch made him feel rugged, almost comically self-assured. The admission hit him in the upper chest, burrowing in beneath his skin to annoy him.

 He was worried that his condescension would be enough to spark some anger in Rafael, selfishly hoping he was pressing hard enough to make the other man lash out like a dog being poked as he was eating. It didn't come, and Rafael gave him a sympathetic look which somehow hurt worse than a snap or curse might.

 "Everyone's entitled to be worried over a little, Sonny." His expression didn't waver, simply remained as though this were the most natural exchange in the world, perhaps about the weather. "And unfortunately, you're not the most difficult target for worry these days." His eyes wandered briefly to the now-empty scotch glass on the table. He didn't remark further on it. "Besides, as much as you might object to such an argument, I don't hate you. I don't even dislike you. Quite the opposite, in fact." It was the most affectionate statement Barba had ever made to him outside of the quiet of his apartment, save for the time that he'd found himself with his back pressed to the brick outside of the bar just down the block. It had been the start of something equal parts perpetually intoxicating and borderline infuriating.

 "I don't need to be worried about," Sonny objected, but it sounded less than credible to his own ears. "Certainly not by you."

 Rafael continued to look at him plainly, with what Sonny hoped wasn't pity. "You let me show you worry," he pointed out, voice soft and nonthreatening despite the intimidation he naturally carried with him. "You let me show you kindness. It's not a character defect to find both of those things reassuring. I don't mind showing you those things. It's not weakness on either of our parts." Sonny did not have Rafael pegged as the type to be particularly emotionally aware, and the exchange made him question any observation skills he thought he'd honed in the past.

 Sonny had no response to offer, one hand still circled loosely around his empty glass. If he had been home, he wouldn't have hesitated to refill it. Instead he tried to practice radical acceptable with its emptiness. He felt second away from squirming under Rafael's patient gaze, like the way he'd felt the time he attempted the debate team as a freshman. It was easy to appear unfazed when a criminal was screaming at you across a steel table with his wrists handcuffed but threatening to break free any time. It was easy to face the angry parents of teenage victims telling you how all of their dreams for their children had evaporated overnight. It was easy to take the butt of a pistol to the face and bleed all over a storefront downtown.

 It was not easy to face the assistant district attorney in his own office, knowing he was aware of the intricacies of your responses to the cases that set you off when you tried to sleep at night; knowing he was aware of your threshold for warm beer; knowing the way you cried out against another's lips when you finally, mercifully came across both of your hands. It was a level of scrutiny Sonny found himself floundering under.

 "You know how I am," he said, finally, lamely to his own ears.

 "I do."

 It was both inconclusive and definitive at once.

 "I need things," Sonny said, his mouth dry, flicking his tongue over dried, wrinkled lips. He felt foolish, shrinking in stature with each syllable that escaped him further. "I need things I can only give myself." His fingers flexed as he tried to fight off a pitiful tremble in the hand that rested on the table. It sounded at once both dramatic and simple, neither outweighing the other.

 Rafael neatly sipped his scotch, still working only on the initial first finger he'd poured himself, and gave a brief nod. He smiled, but it only shone as a wistful one when it made it up to his eyes. His hand slid across the dark oak top of his desk, brushing two tentative fingers over the back of Sonny's hand. The two points of contact made Sonny almost wince, almost startle with the sudden electricity there. "I know."

 The brevity of the response made Sonny ache in frustration, wanting more to chew over, to turn over and over in his mind as he agonized over its meaning through the subsequent days. How scant it was made him bristle, and he turned his eyes down to the desk. It was as though he'd lost a loaded staring contest, another tiny notch on his list of concessions to Rafael. The upper hand had never been one to call his own here, no matter how many hopeful texts he'd sent in the early days hoping for Rafael to warm his bed or the barstool next to him.

 After a few tenuous beats of silence, Sonny raised his gaze and met Rafael's eyes. "Would you like to go home with me, Counselor?" he asked, the title fitting the richness of their setting.

 Seconds seemed to pass, and Sonny considered that a battle of wills might be raging inside of Rafael at the moment. The trial would begin in the morning - 9 AM. Sonny was a late riser on the best of days, often having to splash water on his cheeks, carefully wrangle his hair into shape, and throw on the least wrinkled of his clean - or as close to clean as possible - suits before rushing out the door. He ate a pastry every day on the way to work. The sugar helped calm his nerves, helped to bring a quick spike of energy to propel him toward a job that drained.

 "I would," Rafael said with a low sigh, and for a moment Sonny worried there was a _but_ hidden somewhere beyond the end of the statement. It didn't come. Rafael drank down the last drops of the liquor and set both glasses to the side. They could be washed tomorrow. It was unlike Rafael to abandon a dirty dish, to not focus his meticulous nature on an easily-resolved task. He stood, gathering his own coat and briefcase. "I'm going home afterward, though," he warned, and Sonny flinched, knowing Rafael knew by now that such a disclaimer would always feel necessary with Sonny.

 They rode the train to Sonny's apartment, silent until Sonny got to his feet to exit the train, encouraging Rafael to follow him as though they weren't both familiar with the route there by now. Maintaining the illusion made Sonny's skin prickle uncomfortably.

 His apartment was a fourth floor walk up, quiet, all things considered, and not as painfully unaffordable as the city seemed to be by and large. He'd lived there for a couple of years and appreciated the good lighting outside the building. It would be a shame to feel as though he were a dark corner away from a terrible end even in his own neighborhood. Sonny was ashamed of his own hypervigilance, keeping it neatly hidden away yet never to be snuffed out.

 Sonny had never wanted to be anything but a lawyer growing up, voraciously absorbing every garbage procedural on network television. Cop seemed to be the logical stepping stone for a blue collar Italian kid from Staten Island - a way to pay the bills while brushing up on the law. It had started that way. He had been idealistic. It had taken longer, and his interim plan had sunk its teeth into him during the wait period. The paperwork was as dense as the days were long. People never stopped getting fractured by the world.

 When they arrived at his door, Sonny fumbled momentarily with his keys before unlocking it, and before he could make any motion to invite Rafael in, he was pushed through the door. Rafael's mouth was on his simultaneously, and Sonny startled to imagine his neighbors catching sight of him swallowed up, kissed hungrily by another man. The thought left his mind as Rafael nudged the door shut and pressed Sonny's back against it, thoughtfully reaching behind Sonny to lock both locks as he kissed him breathless.

 All in all, this was probably the wrong idea. Sonny cared too little to stop it; perhaps he cared too much about the delicious press of Rafael against him, practically mashing his back against the cool door. Rafael's hand was fisted in the hair at the back of Sonny's head, their teeth occasionally clacking against the other's.

 "You piss me off so much," Sonny rasped, though he couldn't find any malice within him to coat it. Rafael grunted and forced his thigh in between Sonny's and grinding upward. "You think you're better than me." Rafael made a possessive noise of almost-agreement and nipped at Sonny's bottom lip.

 "It's more that you don't need to fight as much as you do," he gritted out, roughly undoing Sonny's belt with fingers that should've been less steady. "I don't think I'm better than anyone." Sonny left out a huffing laugh of disbelief, which could've been snide if he hadn't moaned against Rafael's mouth, desperation building. Rafael's fingers were at his fly, thumbing the button open, sliding both hands down the back of the pants to knead at Sonny's pert ass. Sonny gave a shaky breath now, arching forward to rub against Rafael's front.

 "Jesus Christ," he said, still practically flush against the flat metal of his door. Rafael quickly stripped him of his jacket and shirt, leaving his torso bare. Sonny had neglected to turn the heat on in his apartment before leaving for work, forever cheap about his utilities - outrageously overpriced, as usual - and his skin broke out into goosebumps as soon as it was exposed to the dark air. There was enough light from the streets below that Rafael could still see the contours of Sonny's chest as the light leaked through the blinds, and what he couldn't see he mapped with curious, exploratory fingertips.

 Rafael's mouth was burning hot across his throat, sucking a low collar of bruises across the column of his neck and upper chest, and his fingers roamed up to roughly roll one of Sonny's nipples between well-manicured nails. He hissed into the air, bringing one hand up to latch his teeth into the knuckles to prevent further exhalation. Rafael took Sonny's hand from his mouth and shoved it down, holding it momentarily against the door in a warning.

 "Don't forget that I like to hear you," he reminded, and Sonny wanted to immediately gasp out a promise of obedience but thought better of it.

 "Can I go down on you?" Sonny blurted instead, his eyes suddenly gone wide and desperate. Rafael swallowed down his surprise and nodded.

 "Take your clothes off before you do it," he almost ordered, releasing Sonny's hands to allow him the ability to make quick work of the rest of his clothing. Rafael slid a hand up the back of Sonny's neck, turning their faces so that their eyes met and he could contemplate Sonny's expression. There was apprehension there. "Have you ever done this before?" he asked, suddenly feeling almost protective, given the circumstances.

 Sonny shook his head. "I don't usually - I don't usually like guys," he admitted gracelessly, catching himself feeling hopelessly juvenile all at once. He lowered his eyes before Rafael tipped his face up again. Rafael offered no statement, just leaned in to kiss him with a deceptive softness that hadn't been there before, delicately sweeping his tongue across Sonny's lower lip. Sonny wondered if the idea of being the first man to do so many things to him had sent a hot jolt through Rafael.

 Rafael placed a gentle hand on Sonny's shoulder, coaxing him down to his knees, back still against the door even here on the floor.

 "Just take it slow," he instructed, and Sonny let his hands slide up Rafael's thighs to work open his pants. The idea of breaking through the barrier between his fantasy and on to reality made his shiver, apprehension both gnawing at him and exciting him at once. He leaned in, rubbing his cheek against Rafael's cock through the thin material of his underwear. When Rafael made a soft, approving noise, he lightly kissed him through the material, tongue wet and searching against the warm skin below. Rafael glided his fingers through the front strands of Sonny's hair, almost petting him.

 Once he found himself accustomed to the initial feel of Rafael's cock against his lips in this way, Sonny mustered a little more boldness, grasping at Rafael's ass briefly through his underwear. Rafael gave a soft sigh, trying to temper his impatience but allowing himself to hook his fingers in the waistband of his underwear, letting them slide down and bunch around close to his knees. Sonny held his breath as Rafael's cock brushed warmly against his cheek, now free from its confines, and he suddenly surged with _want_. Sonny leaned forward, giving a tentative lick to the head of Rafael's cock.

 His skin was so hot and so soft. Rafael seemed to be resisting the urge to push further, already fully hard from the promise at having Sonny so eagerly on his knees. For his part, the idea of being obedient and _good_ made him bolder, and his lips parted, experimentally taking Rafael into his mouth now. The thought of this had seemed so weird, but in practice, it felt oddly natural, though somewhat embarrassingly so. He took Rafael further before hitting a wall and letting out a graceless, sputtering choking sound.

 Rafael pulled his hips slightly back, enough not to make Sonny gag around him. It was thoughtful, and Sonny was grateful for it. This was clearly in no way the first time Rafael had had another man bowed in front of him with his mouth working over the hot flesh there, and Sonny felt himself growing self conscious of his own inexperience. He'd never expected to find himself here, never even dreamed he'd want to in the first place. It was a brave new world, he thought with a dark sense of bemusement. If things not making sense anymore felt this good, he could probably deal with it.

 "It's okay," Rafael said encouragingly, still petting his hair. "It feels good when you take it slow, too. You're doing so good for me."

 Sonny knew he was hard himself, and itched to touch himself. He made an effort to relax, taking Rafael back deeper, willing himself not to choke. He could hear Rafael's sharp intake of breath as he increased his suction, running his tongue across the underside of Rafael's erection as best as he could manage with a full mouth. The encouragement spurred him on, and Sonny sucked harder, moved his head up and down a little. Rafael let out a soft, satisfied noise, and Sonny sped up his movements.

 He slid a hand up the inside of Rafael's thigh, brushing his fingertips over Rafael's balls. Sonny knew he liked this when women did it, knew that the extra sensation made him shake. He rolled them gently in his palm, and Rafael shuddered and moaned. It was a strange sense of power he held now, here on his knees, knowing they'd bruise against the few squares of tile floor directly at his front door, even through the small rug there. The idea that Rafael could barely get him through the door before taking him this way was rewarding in a way he almost worried he didn't deserve.

 Sonny knew he was lacking in sophistication, feeling spittle tricking down his chin where it spilled from the corner of his mouth as he sped up the bobbing of his head, but Rafael didn't seem to mind if the noises he made were any indication. He brought his hand down from Sonny's hair to his cheek, tracing the shape of his dick through the flushed skin of Sonny's cheek, and Sonny couldn't help but look up to meet his eyes. Rafael made a noise then, desperate somehow in a way that Sonny had never heard him.

 "The way you're looking at me right now - " Rafael gritted out, unable to finish his sentence. He was losing control, trying not to thrust into Sonny's mouth, to accidentally scare him off with the gravity of the situation. Sonny made a soft noise of encouragement himself, taking a deep breath through his nose, inching briefly back to suckle wetly at the tip of Rafael's cock before taking him back as deep as he was able. Sonny let his hands wander, using his thumbs to rub gentle circles around the points of Rafael's hipbones, to slide up his belly and then back down, to sneak around for a slight squeeze of his ass again now that it had been bared.

 Rafael was shaking, verging on the edge, and he took in a rattling breath before nudging Sonny away with a gentle push to the shoulder with one hand. Sonny looked up at him from where he was knelt on the floor, lips reddened and bottom half of his face wet. He looked disheveled and bordering on gorgeous.

 "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, looking confused and close to dejection for a moment. Rafael stroked his hair and smiled, trying to regain his bearings. Sonny's fear made affection bloom in Rafael's chest, wanting to chase his reservations away, to scoop him up and praise him for the heady warmth that Sonny had brought through him.

 "Not at all," he said, his breath still fast, making his speech slightly garbled. "Opposite. I was about to come." The admission gave Sonny a swell of pride, and a selfish gratitude that Rafael hadn't wanted to finish that way: the promise of more. Sonny had never known himself to be this greedy for it, like he would take anything he was allowed without hesitation.

 "Bed, please?" he asked, hyperaware of his own staggering arousal now that he didn't have another task to direct his attention to. Sonny kissed the slight swell of Rafael's belly, as though trying to bribe with promise. "I'm so hard," he added, tone trying for coaxing but instead leaning toward a beg. Rafael felt his own cock pulse.

 Wordlessly, Rafael helped him to his feet and pulled his pants up only enough to allow him to walk to the bedroom. Sonny left all of his clothes in an abandoned heap by the front door, forgotten now in the haze of expectation of _more_ , the hot hope of it all. The scotch was warm in his veins, too, but it paled in comparison to the expanse of Rafael's body, waiting and ready and available all for him - even if it were just for the night. It felt almost a privilege, and he laughed inwardly to think of what referring to it as such would do for Rafael's already healthy ego.

 Sonny spread out almost shameless on the bed, starfished in the sheets, hand immediately going around himself to stroke lazily as Rafael stripped all of his clothes off. He took his time to fold his clothing, just to annoy Sonny a little more tonight. Sonny felt that his mouth was almost watering, like a parody found in a cartoon about a hungry cat. He felt himself flush as Rafael surveyed the expanse of his body, taking long moments to watch Sonny jerking himself off as slowly as he could force himself to.

 "I like watching you touch yourself," Rafael said, resting an almost chaste hand on Sonny's ankle as he sat at the foot of the bed. "Do you like having me watch?"

 He did, but he'd rather have Rafael's body all over his own. This would do for now though: the way that Rafael looked at him almost greedily, like he were something to eat.

 "Yes," he said, speeding his strokes ever so slightly, not wanting to come before he could get Rafael's hands on him.

 "And what are you thinking about right now, hmm?" Rafael asked, tracing a few fingertips down the length of his own cock.

 Sonny didn't break their gaze, making sure their eyes met. "I'm thinking about you," he admitted hoarsely, though it was obvious even without words. He licked his lips; they were red and swollen and still wet with the spit that had escaped him in the process.

 "What about me?"

 "I'm thinking about your fingers inside of me," Sonny gasped, being made to verbalize it out loud sending a shock through him with the force of it. "I think about it all the time," he said, knowing he was close to babbling, and shame had blessedly left him alone for the time being. "I think about you stretching me so you can fit inside me."  

 Rafael took fond pity on Sonny's desperate pumping of his own cock, and moved to cover Sonny's body with his own. They kissed again, tongues slick and almost frantic now. Sonny was rubbing himself desperately against Rafael, needing some type of purchase.

 "You want that?" he asked, pulling away from Sonny's mouth but making no move to disconnect any other part of their bodies. They were both hungry for it now, and he rightly took Sonny's nod as eager consent.

 "I got - in the drawer," Sonny rasped out, spreading his legs wider as if to indicate. He blushed at Rafael rifling through the nightstand drawer, finding the bottle of lube he'd picked up at a bodega a few streets over. He'd bought it both in hopes that he'd have Rafael to use it on him again, or at least to work up the nerve to use it to finger himself open on one of the lonelier nights he'd have in the interim weeks. It hadn't happened yet, not even when he'd successfully clouded his brain for the night. Rafael also tore off a condom from the strip Sonny hadn't bothered to put back in the box.

 "Nice and prepared," Rafael observed, almost teasing, but the humor was lost on Sonny, overruled by his own need. Rafael drizzled lube generously on his fingers, warming it as much as he knew Sonny would need. He gently rubbed at Sonny's puckered opening with the pad of his thumb, not wanting to tease him but not wanting to startle or hurt him. Sonny tended to pay too little attention to the risk of self-harm; Rafael had little interest in encouraging this type of behavior.

 Sonny whined in the back of his throat, trying to put his hips back.

 "You can't wait to let me in." Rafael moved to tracing him the tips of two fingers. "Do you think you could take two right now, already? Think you need this badly enough?"

 " _Please_ ," Sonny gasped, and it was a far better answer than Rafael could ever hope for. Rafael began the slow press of the two fingers inside of Sonny's body, hot and impossibly tight. He felt split open, deliciously stretched even to start out with. "Fuck, oh god, fuck" he whimpered, clutching the sheets in both hands.

 "Am I hurting you?" Rafael asked, pausing at the second knuckle. Sonny felt hot all over, sweating now even despite the forgotten heater in the apartment. His cock was wet on the tip, neglected still.

 "N-no," he objected, praying Rafael wouldn't stop. It was a challenging stretch right out of the gate, but felt so good, so welcome. "Please don't stop," he added, hopeful that hadn't been Rafael's intention in the question. Rafael's fingers slid deeper into him, as though they were meant to be there despite the burn they brought with them. Rafael was looking at him almost reverently, luxuriating in the way that Sonny's bottom lip was caught between the sharp points of his teeth.

 "You're so good for me."

 He leaned down, taking Sonny's cock into his mouth in a swift, unexpected motion. Sonny let out a desperate cry, wanting to press back against the fingers inside of him, but also desperate for more of the wet heat and pressure of Rafael's tongue already making his brain scramble to try to keep up. His mouth felt almost sinfully good, blessed with the studied experience Sonny had so lacked earlier. The fingers were a slick counterpoint Rafael's mouth. Sonny felt consumed, as though he had been completely taken possession of by Rafael's careful ministrations.

 Rafael moved a gentle hand to Sonny's hip, inviting him silently to hold tight to it. Sonny moved his hand immediately to join it, to clutch as a lifeline as he couldn't stifle his whimpers. Rafael hummed around his erection, a wordless encouragement. It was soothing to his frantic nerves, but sent a delicious vibration through Sonny. His mouth was open and gasping, and he writhed in the sheets. It was difficult to keep his legs positioned wide enough for Rafael's hand to work inside of him, and he struggled to be good, to keep himself held open to accommodate.

 There was an incandescent heat building in his stomach, pooling across his lap as Rafael pulled away just far enough to lick the wet bead of precome from the tip of Sonny's cock. Sonny's eyes were wide, and Rafael met them from between his splayed legs. He pulled away even further, momentarily, to lick at where their bodies joined, where Rafael's fingers disappeared inside of him. Sonny couldn't find the oxygen to made a sound beyond a choked sputter.

 "I can't - I - " he stammered when he'd found some air, hips trembling, already so close as Rafael's mouth returned around his cock. "Rafael, please, I'm so close, you have to - "

 His mind burned white hot as he felt Rafael smile with satisfaction around him, crooking his fingers deep inside over the bump of his prostate. Sonny's hips arched off of the bed and shoved back against the fingers, searching for more of that electricity that had torn through him, almost punishingly good. Rafael was sucking harder, more insistently now, taking Sonny practically to the back of his throat.

 Sonny practically sobbed in pleasure, reduced to a heap of clustered, exploding nerve endings on his back in the sheets. Rafael was gently stroking the back of his hand with his thumb, feeling more tender than Sonny felt he deserved. This was all more than he deserved. It was a sober thought that intruded, unwelcome in this moment.

 The thumb of Rafael's busy, probing hand traced a sure, firm circle or two against Sonny's perineum, and he choked, coming hard in Rafael's mouth before he could calm himself enough to proceed to the next step, to give Rafael pleasure the way it had been bestowed upon himself. Rafael tightened his grip on Sonny's hand, and swallowed the come without so much as a sputter.

 "I'm sorry," he apologized immediately, immediately feeling guilty that he hadn't had the presence of mind to offer so much as a warning. "I should've - it was just so - "

 "Intense," Rafael supplied, and Sonny then noticed that he was rubbing himself against the sheets. Intense was a fitting word.

 "I - can I - " Sonny sputtered as he continued to try to catch his breath, wanting to please, wanting to be helpful if he could only manage to regroup his mind and his body. Sonny gasped like a fish on dry land. He'd certainly taken advantage of Rafael's generosity, the attention he never seemed to mind lavishing on Sonny. His hands were shaking. Rafael raised himself up, pressed back onto his heels, hand now working fast, roughly over himself.

 "I wish you could've seen your face," Rafael told him, leaning back now to sit on the bed, legs spread. His cock was red, so much so that Sonny winced in sympathy. "You looked like you were hurting. When I see you feel good like that, it makes me want - " He cut himself off, maybe concerned something too sentimental would slip out, would sully whatever had somehow wormed its way between them.

 Sonny was lightly stroking himself, though he was beginning to go soft. It still felt good to watch Rafael thrusting wildly into his own hand. He now slid his hand up to tenderly capture the fingers of Rafael's free hand in his own.

 "Next time I want you inside of me. I wanna to suck you, make you come, let you rest and start all over again," Sonny said hoarsely, unable to keep the torrent of filth from tumbling out. "I want my knees on your shoulders so you can get even further in me. I want you as deep as you can get."

 Rafael's eyes scrunched closed, his breath coming in short, inadequate bursts.

 "I can tell you're close," Sonny said, reaching his hand around Rafael's body to clutch at his ass for the purpose of pulling him in close, splaying his knees across Sonny's lap. Sonny kissed him desperately, Rafael's fingers knotting in the hair at the crown of his head as if claiming ownership. Sonny reached his hand between their bodies, chasing Rafael's away so he could jerk Rafael as sure-handedly as he'd seen the other man do to himself. "I wanna make you come."

 Rafael made groan that sounded wanton to Sonny's ears. The idea that he had been responsible for this made him wish he could get hard again already. Rafael crushed their lips together, tensing all over before his cock pulsed and spilled across Sonny's hips and belly, a drop or two even reaching almost up to his collarbone. His body shuddered momentarily, and he draped himself across Sonny, kissing him as though trying to steal some of the air Sonny had recouped to use for his own gain.

 "Jesus Christ," Rafael said once he could form a few syllables again. Sonny made a noise of agreement, shifting their hips together not for any friction, just to get comfortable enough so they could lie together.

 "Next time I'll make it last longer," Sonny said, almost apologetically, feeling inconsiderate.

 Rafael made a dismissive gesture and laid his head briefly against Sonny's chest. Sonny wrapped his arms around Rafael's shoulders for a few seconds, kissing the side of his neck, sloppy and openmouthed. For those split seconds there was an intimacy between them that felt hopeful, but Sonny squashed it away as he saw Rafael's eyes drift to the alarm clock on Sonny's bedside table. Almost ten. The night before trial was always a night for beauty rest, a night to sharpen the mind, to hone the urge to go in for the kill, so to speak.

 For a few minutes Rafael laid with Sonny, kissing gently a few times at the sweaty hollow of his throat, before ultimately uncertainly clearing his throat.

 "I should go," he said, propping himself up on one hand. "It's getting late."

 "Yeah. Yeah," Sonny agreed, reminding himself that he ought to have expected this outcome. After all, Rafael had warned him from the starting line. "I ought to, you know, think about getting ready. Get in the headspace and all that." _I don't want to disappoint you_ , he thought and then wondered if he meant in trial or otherwise. It seemed applicable in so many areas that it made him feel a faint, unlikeable ache.

 "Sounds appropriate," Rafael said, crawling off of Sonny to stand beside the bed and begin to redress himself. It almost seemed funny to see the process in reverse. Sonny was usually almost asleep when Rafael began the checklist of procedure to leave. He even tied his tie, looking composed. Sonny admired the sureness of his movements. Sometimes Sonny still had to find a YouTube tutorial to tie a new one.

 Sonny got to his feet, following Rafael to the door. There were words on his tongue but he made no move to speak; the thoughts were muddled and he was apprehensive of what might come out.

 "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, and it sounded lame to his own ears.

 "Yes," Rafael said, gathering his briefcase from Sonny's dining room table. He leaned in and pressed a fleeting kiss to Sonny's lips, swollen and kiss-bruised. It felt unfamiliar, abnormal to kiss goodnight, and Sonny wondered if there was probably still a faint taste of scotch in his mouth, even through it all. He wondered if it made Rafael nauseous, put off by the reminder that Sonny had never so much as touched him without a little chemical aid. He certainly didn't feel good about this shortcoming. He was suddenly very tired and more than a little morose. "See you tomorrow." He was gone, out the door before Sonny could offer anything else.

 Sonny stood naked in his living room for a few idle moments. His apartment had commonly felt laughably sparse when Rafael departed, and he let his shoulders drop for a brief second as he felt disappointed in the absence.

 Trial would be tomorrow, and he'd get to relive the gory details of getting punched in the face. It had been a minor hiccup in the grand scheme of a case so complex, but it would make him wonder if Rafael would remember what had happened in the aftermath, kissing him in the bathroom, helping him to towel off. He wondered if it would cross his mind at all. It would more than likely be in the back of Sonny's mind. He entertained the notion of thanking the perp for hurting him enough to be fawned over, and it made him smile fondly.

 He wandered into the kitchen, reflexively reaching into the fridge for a nightcap, if you could call a Pabst Blue Ribbon something of the sort. The cold snap of the can and the slight dispersing of mist soothed him, and he drew his ragged bathrobe around his shoulders, not bothering to belt it in the front. He sat down on the sofa, feeling a soreness he know would follow him into tomorrow. It would be a nice reminder.

 He sipped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get it together, boys. 
> 
> The title of this chapter is from Sufjan Stevens' "I Walked."  
> Again, thank you so much for your feedback and kind words, and thank you for reading!


	4. iv. some nights feel like every night; this one feels brand new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family dinners; uncertain feelings.

Throughout Sonny's life, he'd acknowledged a universal truth: Carisi women loved their wine - even his ma, who'd married into it and subsequently adapted swimmingly.

 He remembered his mother and her sisters and his father's sisters, cousins, aunts, other scattered and miscellaneous women who'd fluttered in and out of the Carisi house with casserole dishes and bundt cakes and big, curled, dark hair. Each of them would bring wine each time - bottles, though they'd breathlessly whisper they'd also brought boxes, a natural preference that everyone seemed shy about. When his sisters had been old enough - sixteen, naturally, seeing how Carisis across the board also played fast and loose with age laws when it came to their drinking habits - they'd sipped their wine out of juice glasses and laughed too loudly along with the other women surrounding the kitchen table.

 Sonny thought of this when he thought of women, even the broken ones on the job, and it still caught him off guard when that dulling ache caught him in the chest. It was comforting to see his sisters, long legged, sitting on kitchen counters or folded up with legs crisscrossed on the floor with their backs pressed against the fridge or the wall underneath the house phone, batting the long cord away from their heads.

 When Bella had called him on Friday night practically tearing her hair out ( _for Christ's sake, Sonny, if you don't help me out here for one night I'm probably gonna kill Tommy; you're gonna see me on the news_ ), he'd laughed and known just what to do: wine, and a lot of it, and told her to come over the next night when he wasn't so tired. His nerves were frayed, and he didn't want her to see him this way. It was best that way, best to allow himself some time to compose himself and brush up on the amenable veneer he'd grown used to putting on when he went home.

 He'd even made an oversized pan of lasagna - admittedly not as good as his ma's, though he had the convenient excuse that a tiny little closet of an apartment was no place to make his own homemade pasta. Ma had conveniently overlooked his storebought noodles in the past, probably just impressed that her busy little bachelor son had managed not to burn his apartment down. She'd taught him everything he knew.

 Sonny could admit to himself that it'd be perjury if he ever tried to claim on the stand that Bella wasn't his favorite sister, even in times where he silently - or not so silently, as he was wont to do when he was feeling less than charitable to his little sister - questioned her judgment. She had a big laugh that she sometimes directed at him when he was being the kind of foolish she just couldn’t entertain, but she always knew what to say. He felt deeply, unconditionally loved by her, and wished there were so few less things he'd decided he couldn't tell her these days.

 She was wearing a comically oversized sweatshirt and leggings on his couch, laughing until her cheeks reddened with one of Sonny's cheap wine glasses in her hand. Sonny had made sure to buy a box of the driest red wine the bodega had, knowing that Carisi women certainly weren't shy about making sure their booze was rich and robust ( _like I like my men, am I right ladies_ he could hear his bawdiest aunt bellowing at the Carisi kitchen table). They were several glasses deep and laughing about the time their father had fallen off of Sonny's bike trying to see if he could ride it. Bella's laugh had stilled, as if her wine-soaked gaze had finally settled on her older brother and could let her proceed no further without commentary.

 "I don't mean to say it, Sonny, but you kinda look like hell," she admitted, free hand resting against her cheek, tilting her head as though to study him. There was still pasta sauce in the corner of her mouth and she wrinkled her face, sticking her tongue out to lick it away.

 He supposed she was right, really - sleep still evaded him more nights than not, dreams waking him abruptly from it in sweat-soaked sheets, struggling for breath. His appetite wasn't great, either, his weeknight diet sometimes limited to beef jerky or a sad TV dinner. If his mother knew the way he ate when not under her watchful gaze, she'd have cursed his name and tied him to a chair in the kitchen. Sonny wondered if he'd lost weight but hadn't had the heart to pursue any confirmation of it. He knew he looked shabby, bent at the corners.

 There was one gaze in the world that he couldn't hide from.

 "I've been better," he admitted, somewhat self-deprecating in tone.

 Bella's brow furrowed a bit, knowing that Sonny wasn't necessarily thrilled about being forthcoming with any information that would betray the happy-go-lucky gait he walked with when he ventured home to Staten Island. Here in Manhattan he looked positively exhausted. "You wanna talk about it?" she asked, surveying him.

 "Just the job," he said, and it was explanation enough in his mind. It was the job. It was school. Frustratingly, it was Rafael, whatever that was. He kept that part tucked inside his sleeve, knowing he'd never dare to breathe a word of it to any other soul on the face of the earth. This was his mess to carry with him for the day that might never come when he sought to unpick the knot. His parents had never mentioned any type of opinion one way or another in similar matters, except maybe for all the times his old man and his buddies would slap each other on the back and slur _queer_ to a huge eruption of barking laughs that echoed in the garage, sure to be heard out in the street with its door hoisted open.

 "It's a hard job, Sonny. Maybe you need a break. That shit's dangerous and I worry about you."

 Sonny rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at Bella. "Okay, Ma," he said sarcastically, though perhaps the smallest part of him was grateful for her concern, even if it was misplaced.

 She nudged his shoulder with one stocking foot, almost setting his wine off balance enough to spill, making them both laugh. "Stop it - you know what I mean. It's just that - I feel like sometimes you miss out throwing yourself after all the bad guys all the time, y'know?" A lock of her hair had fallen into her eye and she brushed it away, swaying a little in her seat. The supply of wine was evaporating quickly, and they had both lapsed into the lazy, companionable silliness that they'd always found together in a fine box of grapes. "I mean, y'know - make yourself dinner once in a while. Go to a movie once in a while. Go on a date with somebody nice once in a while. Normal person shit."

 "I _do_ normal person shit," Sonny said, and she gave him a pointed look. He gave a sputtering laugh, maybe caught red-handed in a lie. He held up his hands as though in self-defense. "For one, I made dinner for you tonight, so maybe say thanks. For two - " He was holding up a finger for each counterpoint, voice raised with the force of keeping a laugh out of it. " - none of these damn fifteen dollar ticket movies are worth paying for, let alone watching. And _three_ \- who wants to go on a date with me? Mr. Sex Crimes - that's real fun for the ladies."

 "Oh for Christ's sake, Sonny," she said, leaning on the backside of the couch for support. "First of all, thanks for the dinner." He made a mock-grateful gesture, intended to make her laugh, but Bella's face now was oddly sympathetic, almost sad. "And anyway, Sonny - anyone would be lucky to have you, I know it." For a split, worried second, Sonny wondered if she'd had the forethought to keep the _anyone_ as knowingly vague as possible, but chalked it up to her grape-muddied mind, even if it was only out of self-preservation. "And besides - you've got good health insurance. Everybody wants that these days."

 Hours had passed, and the box of wine was efficiently drained. Sonny wasn't sure how she'd managed to con Tommy into not only letting her have a night away from the baby to laugh at bad infomercials with her brother, but also to care enough to come pick her up as she laughed with abandon and wobbled on the balls of her feet with her arms thrown around Sonny's neck. Tommy was even good natured enough to accept a sloppy hug from Sonny and to thank him for showing Bella a good time. It was the happiest Sonny had been in longer than he'd remembered until it was upon him now.

 Once the door was closed and suitably locked to his standards, he sprawled out on the couch, loose limbed and comfortable. He was still dressed in his jeans and a decent enough t-shirt to not make Bella go home and claim he had been dressed _like a goddamn hobo, Ma, I swear_ , and without thinking, he picked his phone up and found Rafael's name. They'd had little to say to each other for the last couple of weeks, not necessarily borne out of anything negative, but also not in a hurry to repeat any patterns.

  _I made my sister lasagna tonight_

 The text was sent out into the void before he could stop to consider how absurd it was. He dropped the phone idly on his chest, waiting until three typing dots appeared in a pixilated bubble on the screen.

  _Well, look at you._ It was friendly, without agenda. Sonny's whole body was warm, maybe too warm, probably due to the wine. He could tell his lips were probably stained. The typing dots appeared and disappeared several times over the next couple of minutes, as though his phone were battling with itself to reveal a tentatively thought out secret to him.

 Sonny didn't give Rafael the chance to pressure himself to craft the perfect diplomatic response to rebuff him. _I wish you were here but we had a box of wine so Im sorry though kind of a mess_. He pulled a face at the tumble of unpunctuated words, but it still didn’t prevent him from hitting send, feeling tonight that he had nothing to lose from a spill of a sentence that made little sense.

 The fleeting dots found its way to the screen a few times, again, almost annoyingly indecisive. Sonny imagined Rafael sitting on whatever his couch looked like - probably intimidating leather that cost more than a few months of Sonny's rent, no doubt - with perfect posture, considering his options, but it didn't last much longer.

  _I suppose there would be worse things_. Not exactly a winning response, but it made the hope of human company beat in Sonny's chest, still feeling warm from the success of the night with his sister.

  _COme over_ , he pecked out in a hurry, not in the mood for any further possibility of pretense with the typing nightmare to prove it. Rafael sent a response in the affirmative.

 Sonny swept into the kitchen, putting every single tomato flecked pan in the dishwasher so as not to give off an event stronger air of sloppiness than he already did. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror - cheeks red, hair free of product, eyes not as bleary as they might be with half a fifth of vodka or a six pack of beer under his belt, perhaps a good enough sign that it wouldn't seem like he'd broken his unspoken promise not to call Rafael when he was at least three sheets to the wind (if not multiplying that by two).

 It wasn't necessarily something he sought out intentionally. Sonny stuffed the urge to text Rafael more nights than he'd care to admit, sometimes even before he dipped into any type of strong adult beverage, sometimes in the middle of the day when he'd catch himself with a too-long lingering gaze across the precinct as Rafael studied a case file or sized up a perp. It had even happened once first thing in the morning on a Sunday, which had almost disgusted him with himself, if he were being honest. In these times he tried to chide himself: _this is not what this was supposed to be; this is not what you were supposed to want_ , and it worked well enough to shove him toward the next phase of his day.

 He couldn't hide it from himself on the longer nights alone, the ones where he'd had enough to rest easily, when he didn't have to fight anymore. It was a concession he allowed himself then, even if he felt conflicted about it later.

 The wait for Rafael was shorter than normal when his knock at the door came. Sonny wondered where he had been - out there in the world interacting with normal people, maybe. He wondered what a person like Rafael might do out there in that world, and found himself with little idea. He hadn't stopped to think before about all the things that he might not know, and probably shouldn't want to know. He stuffed the little feeling of guilt over it somewhere deep down with the rest of it and answered the door.

 He'd never seen Rafael dressed in anything more casual than a three piece suit, sometimes with the suspenders Sonny had once found himself fantasized about strapping his wrists together above his head, but here he was in a navy sweater and well-fitting tan slacks. It also occurred to him that Rafael had seen him in his pajamas on the night that this had started to intensify, an unfair balance that he thought of as almost comforting at this point.

 "Hi," Sonny said, his voice thick with the slight sleepiness that wine brought him.

 "Box of wine," Rafael observed as he stepped inside, seeing the abandoned box with its overworked spigot still on the coffee table. He'd gotten used to the subtle, sometimes good-natured digs at his choice in alcohol, though he still flinched at some of them.

 "Some of us don't have expensive taste," Sonny said, sitting down on the couch and silently inviting Rafael to join him.

 Rafael smiled slightly, coming to sit down beside him. His hair wasn't perfectly coiffed tonight - certainly not messy but not styled into submission either. It looked softer than normal. He looked relaxed out of his ADA uniform, as Sonny laughingly thought of it tonight, and he fleetingly wished they could be normal people together once in a while.

 "Yes, that's been long-established," he said, eyes shining. Before Sonny knew it, he was leaning into Rafael's body. He savored the warmth, he found there even though Rafael's sweater was still cold from the outside air. He could feel Rafael tense momentarily, perhaps caught off guard, but he then relaxed into Sonny's body as he relaxed back against the pillows. "You caught me at a good time. I was on my way home from having dinner with my mother."

 The thought of Rafael doing something so simple made him smile, especially coupled with the way Rafael's fingers found his hair like this, now that Sonny was practically lying against him.

 "That sounds nice," Sonny mused, imagining different combinations of personality that Rafael's mother might have, wondering what kind of woman could raise a man like Rafael Barba. He didn't ask, and not just because he always found himself less articulate when he'd had a few drinks and ended up in close proximity.

 "Unfortunately our wine came from a plain old bottle," Rafael remarked, and even without seeing his face Sonny could hear the smile that upturned the corners of his mouth.

 "Yeah, well. They can't all be winners." Sonny felt the light rumble of Rafael's reserved laugh where their bodies were pressed together. It was deeply comfortable in a way that Sonny both savored and was afraid of in equal measures.

 Rafael made a soft _hmm_ noise. "I suppose not," he said quietly, leaning over Sonny and cupping his cheek lightly before kissing him lightly in the barest brush of their lips together.

 When he pulled away, he gave an almost affectionate smile to the look that was left on Sonny's face.

 "You look happy tonight." He ran the pad of his thumb over Sonny's cheek. "It suits you."

 He could taste the slightness of wine on Rafael's mouth even this way, and he was silently thankful that he wasn't one hundred percent sober when he came to Sonny's - perhaps less prone to disapproval than usual. There was another brief meeting of their mouths before Sonny rolled over onto his other side so they could face one another.

 "I'm happy a lot," Sonny said, almost insistently, but it sounded hollow to his ears.

 Wordlessly, Rafael studied him for a moment, and his careful gaze made Sonny uneasy. He pushed himself up on his elbows, offering his mouth in hopes of creating a distraction from the assessment. Rafael took the invitation, placing one broad hand across Sonny's abdomen as he kissed him again, this time pressing immediately deeper into the kiss. Sonny felt his breath failing him, and it was delicious. He allowed his own hand to drift under the hem of Rafael's sweater, untucking the frustrating extra layer of his undershirt to play over Rafael's belly. It was nice to not be expected to talk for now.

 Rafael adjusted against him, perhaps seeking more contact, and kissed Sonny harder as their hands roamed over each other. His hands left Sonny's belly and crept around to his ass, pulling him closer that way. He helped Sonny sit up slightly so get a better angle, still kneading the globes of his ass through the well-loved jeans which were now feeling admittedly too tight.

 "That feels good," Sonny gasped out between kisses, his own hands now scrabbling for purchase in the shoulders of Rafael's fine, soft sweater. Rafael made a wordless sound of assent as he kissed down Sonny's neck, sucking enough for pressure but not for marks where they could be seen. "I'm glad you came over." It seemed like a silly thing to say, and he was glad for it when the only answer Rafael offered was to strip Sonny's shirt over his head, pushing him onto his back in the process.

 Sonny's legs were parted on either side of Rafael's hips as their kisses continued, and Rafael took hold of both of his wrists, pinning them above his head with a  surprising strength. Sonny made a soft, surprised noise.

 "Is this all right?" Rafael asked, nearly bordering on an uncharacteristic uncertainty even as he resumed his path of kisses down the front of Sonny's throat.

 "Yes, please," Sonny asked, fighting in vain to keep from grinding his hips upward in search of some - any - friction against his cock and the tent of fabric it created in his jeans. Rafael made a possessive sound and crowded over Sonny's body, crushing their lips together with little grace.

 Rafael took the initiative to adjust their position to rub their cocks together through two layers of pants, and Sonny sighed in relief at the contact as they moved their hips almost lazily against one another. It suddenly felt that they had more time than usual, which Sonny chalked up to the way that wine seemed to slow everything down enough for him to get out of his head a little bit for once. There was heat building between them, and he whined in his throat when he tried to move his hands to shuck Rafael's sweater from him but couldn't wriggle out of his grasp.

 "You look so good," Rafael gritted out, giving a few sharp bites to Sonny's collarbone, to the skin of his upper torso. They were red almost immediately. "I want to get my mouth all over you."

 "Please," Sonny agreed, arching up as Rafael slid one hand down his arm, freeing it to roll Sonny's nipple hard. He whimpered, wishing he could get Rafael out of his clothes. Rafael licked into his mouth, letting go of his other wrist. Sonny's arms went around his neck, pulling Rafael harder down on top of him. He was trying not to plead, but he supposed the soft, needy huffs he was making betrayed him.

 Rafael broke away to take the opportunity to finally pull the sweater and undershirt over his head, and Sonny slid his fingers impulsively through the coarse hair on his chest, leading downward to his belt and the waistband of his slacks. Rafael gently batted his hands away and kissed him deeply, making short work of the belt himself and pulling his pants and underwear down unceremoniously. He allowed Sonny to wrestle his way out of his own jeans, casting them haplessly to the floor beside the couch.

 "Remember what I told you the last time? What I promised I'd do to you?" As though Sonny could possibly forget the way that Rafael had confidently assured him that he'd take his time, using his mouth and tongue to work Sonny open, to get Sonny ready and begging to be taken. He'd thought about it more times than he cared to admit, jerking himself off quickly in the shower before bed, biting into the skin of his free hand to keep himself from making noise.

 "Yes," he breathed, at first not trusting himself to speak further. Rafael's hands were palming the cheeks of his ass, making him whine and grind their hips together. He could feel any semblance of control he thought he had slipping through his fingers. "I thought about it all the time," he admitted, growing desperate. He could feel Rafael's hands easing him apart, gently circling his hole with one dry finger without the promise of forcing in for more.

 "Did you?" Rafael asked, and Sonny could feel him, hard and rubbing his cock against Sonny's thigh. "As much as I've thought about fucking you this whole time?" Sonny's eyes were open now, and he could see the heady lust painted across Rafael's face. "It's been a while, hasn’t it?  I missed the noises you made when I was inside of you."

 The idea that the memory had been so present in Rafael's mind made Sonny squirm, quietly but intensely pleased by it.

 "Will - will you do it to me?" Sonny ventured, his voice small and almost shaky. "Please?" His voice was hopeful. Rafael nodded, capturing his mouth again, reaching down and giving his cock a few slow, easy strokes until Sonny gasped into his mouth.

 "How do you want it?" Rafael asked, his tone dark, husky.

 Sonny considered for a brief moment, the feeling of Rafael's hand on his cock making it hard to think. "I - can we go in my room? I want to lay down."

 Rafael kissed him again, and Sonny moaned with the loss of Rafael's hand leaving his erection. Rafael made sure their lips stayed connecting on the way into the bedroom, with Sonny almost falling off balance and having to catch himself clumsily against the doorframe. Sonny could feel Rafael laugh against his mouth, and he felt something pulling in his chest. It felt nice, almost normal. Maybe this was what Rafael was like in his second life as a normal person. The thought of getting to see it made him feel warm again, though he kicked himself for it.

 When they arrived at the bed, Rafael coaxed him down to sit on its edge, and he ran his hands along the strong angles of Sonny's shoulders. Sonny leaned forward, tilting his head up and pressing a wet kiss to Rafael's sternum and others up as far as he could reach. Rafael nudged his shoulders back, helping him down and to turn over on his front. He felt ripe for the taking, nervous and almost glad he couldn't see.

 Rafael's hands were a gentle, welcome presence on him, massaging before moving smoothly to hold him open. Sonny wanted to squirm on instinct, embarrassed at the scrutiny, but he could feel Rafael's breath, impossibly hot and humid against his opening. The anticipation teetered on the edge of too much to bear, and he felt a tremor race through him, waiting for the first point of contact.

 After seconds of quiet near-agony, Rafael's mouth was on him, and Sonny gave a muffled gasp against the sheets as he buried his face in them. Rafael's lips were almost chaste, almost absurdly so on this part of him, so private and hidden. The initial contact startled him, but he found himself wanting more.

 It soon came in the form of Rafael's tongue wetly circling the furled rim of his hole, tongue rough in a way that made Sonny's belly warm and coiled with lust. He was hazily grateful that Rafael didn't seem to find any shyness in this, tongue insistent and searching in its ministrations, with soft noises of what Sonny could only assume to be enjoyment escaping him at intervals. His hand lightly patted the right cheek of Sonny's ass, soothing his flank. Sonny hadn't realized he was tensing, and the gesture made him relax, like a frightened horse with a most patient owner.   

 The tip of his tongue pushed in, just barely. Sonny moaned, burying his face again in the sheets before turning his head to rest on his cheek. " _God_ ," he exhaled, breathless, wanting. He wondered if Rafael was  smiling.

 Sonny knotted the fingers of his left hand in the sheets, irreparably wrinkling them in his fist, and bit into the knuckles of the other. He fought with himself not to push backwards and get more of the sensation of Rafael's tongue lapping at him, pushing into him. His breath was coming in damp gasps now, and they only intensified when Rafael brought him up on his knees, still mouthing at his hole. His fingers inched around front, wrapping around Sonny's cock.

 "Yes - please," he blurted hoarsely, not entirely sure what he was asking for but unable to stop the words from coming barreling out of him. Rafael's mouth was unceasing in its movements, working over the most intimate part of his body, and Sonny couldn't find the clarity of mind to blanch at the embarrassment of begging for it. Sonny wondered if it was possible for him to come apart this way, to come before Rafael could even progress to working him open with his fingers to make the way for his cock. His adventurous girlfriend had never been like this before, never seemed content to wring the reedy, high sounds out of him for the enjoyment of taking him apart with lips and tongue. "Fuck, please - "

 "Touch yourself for me," Rafael urged, stopping the strokes of his own hand, and Sonny immediately replaced it with his own. His hand was quick, almost desperate as Rafael's mouth resumed. His tongue was pressing further now, unrelenting and slick. Sonny knew this would be just one more memory to neatly file away, to bring out on a rainy day when he would find himself with his pajamas down around his thighs, alone in bed on yet another night when his mind and the streets wouldn't quiet enough to let him blessedly fall asleep. Sonny made a noise of frustration, ready and waiting and unable to keep his body still. He hadn’t realized he was shaking all over, unsure when it had started.

 "I want you to fuck me," Sonny said in stilted, ragged breath that sounded a little too close to begging for his own comfort. "Please, I want you so bad." Rafael pulled away from him with a wet, decadent sound when his lips and tongue left.

 "I could do that to you for hours," Rafael said, directing Sonny back down to lie on his front. Sonny was grateful, feeling boneless and heavy-limbed. The promise of hours sounded beyond anything Sonny could've imagined, though it would probably have caused him to flush in the shame of allowing himself to want so openly. "If you were a little more patient I'd make you come that way," he told him, his voice teasing, drawing a line down the center of Sonny's back with one fingertip. The abrupt transition from having Rafael's mouth on him and his own hand almost furiously working his cock to only having the single, slow point of contact made him suddenly desperate and hopelessly wanting.

 "I want you to make me come with you inside of me," he said, honest beyond what rational thought might normally allow him.

 Rafael took this as permission to lean over to rummage through the drawer in Sonny's nightstand, producing the bottle of lube Sonny still hadn't had the nerve to use between visits. Sonny practically vibrated on the bed, nerves on edge, waiting with a surprising eagerness to be used. He pressed his forehead to the bed, listening to the wet sounds of Rafael slicking up his fingers, warming them considerately.

 He drew in a shaky breath, trying keep his composure enough not to snap and begin humping his bed. Patience was a virtue, he reminded himself, a remnant of Catholic school that he somehow couldn't manage to shed even here, sprawled underneath a man who regarded him with the utmost professionalism outside of the safe sanctuary of his apartment. Sonny could be whomever he wanted to present as in the streets, in the precinct, on a stand in a courtroom full of onlookers, but he realized that here, now, he couldn't hide.

 The wet sounds paused, and Rafael was leaning over him, mouth right next to his ear now. "Think I got you ready enough to put two of my fingers inside of you?" he asked, his voice roughened with promise. Sonny couldn't find his voice to speak, just nodded, fighting a trembling that threatened to race through him. There was a brief touch to the outside of his hole, testing the slickness before two of Rafael's fingers moved inside of him in a sudden, welcome motion. Sonny heard himself make a throaty sound from the back of his throat at the invasion, pushing back against them.

 "That's right. Good boy," Rafael praised, moving his fingers in and out in millimeters, ever-patient enough to let Sonny adjust to the stretch. Sonny felt stripped to the bone, savoring the feeling of fingers he'd missed so much working him open.

 Rafael wasted no time, crooking his fingers, searching tantalizingly close to the spot inside of him that Sonny knew would reduce him to a keening, pleading mess. They were so close, but felt so far as Rafael pulled back, thrusting the fingers gently, insistently in and out of him. An incandescent heat was building inside of him, snowballing in his gut with each passing second of Rafael's fingers moving.

 "I bet I could get three of them in there," he said, nipping at the lobe of Sonny's ear, sliding one hand up Sonny's shoulderblade and around to his throat. There was no pressure in it when it arrived, just a light stroke of his fingers, reminding him of what could come if he was good. "Do you think you would like that?" he asked. Sonny could scarcely breathe, even without any kind of pressure from the hand on his throat. His cock was untouched against the bed, but he knew that precome would be pooling on the sheet beneath him.

 "Fuck, yes  - please," Sonny managed to get out between shuddering attempts at breath.

 "You'll take whatever I can give you, won't you?" Rafael asked, pulling his fingers loose for a few moments to add more lube. As much as he'd try to deny it to himself, Sonny nodded and made a noise of agreement.

 Even when Rafael didn't have him pinned below him, Sonny found himself daydreaming about ways he could be used, toyed with: on his knees in the shower with Rafael's soapy hand in his wet hair; on all fours on the fine sofa in Rafael's office fighting not to make noise as Rafael would order; with his hands tied together and to the headboard of his bed with Rafael's stupid, pretentious suspenders. The last one in particular had made him flush at his own abandon, and he'd ceased his fantasizing and spent twenty minutes getting himself off to some vaguely exploitative college-coed themed porn with safe, blonde girls he could introduce to his mother as some form of perverse penance. It barely sufficed.

 Three fingers eased into him, gentler than the first intrusion of the two, and Sonny couldn't help but cry out, thighs shaking against the mattress as he tried to keep himself as open as possible. It felt almost painfully good, so very full and stretched. He distantly heard a string of praises as Rafael murmured into his ear, but they were muffled by the roaring of blood in his ears.

 He could feel the unmistakable outline of Rafael's cock against his ass, so hot and hard that Sonny couldn't help but admire the other man's self control not to rut selfishly against him. "Has anybody ever done this to you?" he asked, voice low as he licked under Sonny's ear. The fingers felt especially deep in him now, and close to curling where he needed them - so close, but again, not nearly close enough.

 "N-no," Sonny stammered. "Just you."

 That caused a slow, grinding moan - almost more of a growl - to escape Rafael, and the fingers crooked inside of him, closer. "Just me," Rafael repeated, in what sounded close to wonder. "So nobody gets to see you like this, all laid out for me to do whatever I want to make you feel good." His fingers traced again over the soft, thin skin of Sonny's throat, pressing in a little this time. Sonny felt like he was falling, knocked unsteady into something unknown.

 At last, the fingers inside of him mercifully bent in just the right way, bumping gracefully over his prostate, and Sonny gave a soft, startled yelp, unable now to refrain from rubbing his erection on the bed beneath his body. "Yes!" he burst out, unable to control his mouth from running away from him as the fingers set an unrelenting pace over his prostate, giving him no time to recover from the initial onslaught. "Please, Rafael - you can do whatever you want to me, please." It was a blank check he didn't mind giving up.

 "I want you to ride me," Rafael said, tightening the fingers around his throat for a split second - enough to restrict his breath but not to cut it off. Coupled with the persistent friction against his prostate, Sonny frantically worried if he'd come again before Rafael even had the chance to get inside him, and let out a startled cry of warning. "It's okay, Sonny," he soothed, kissing him reassuringly on the back of his neck. "I don't want to push you over the edge just yet." It was encouraging, easing his nerves to know that he wouldn't lose the opportunity to pleasure Rafael again. He was surprised by the force of wanting it.

 Maybe he'd been laughably mistaken back when he'd chalked his relentless pursuit of impressing Rafael Barba to simple, understandable hero worship. Maybe he'd been unknowingly desperate for this the whole time - to be pinned under him, gasping for release. Maybe he had wanted this from the outset. Sonny felt as though this infuriating, competent, intoxicating man had taken Sonny's already bewildering life into his hands and twisted it upside down, but he couldn't find it within him to be angry for it. Quite the opposite, if he were honest with himself.

 Rafael eased his fingers out, giving another light, sweeping caress to Sonny's backside before crawling up the bed to lean back against the pillows and the headboard. His cock was a dark red, precome beading on the tip, and Sonny was again stricken by the idea that Rafael had been careful and composed enough to wait for him, to prepare him enough not to hurt him.

 Sonny caught his breath for a few seconds before getting to his hands and knees, searching for a condom in the nightstand. He was getting low on them, he noted, and knew he had Rafael to thank for depleting his supply. It was a team effort, he noted, and it made him laugh inwardly at the thought of the two of them intentionally accomplishing such a project. He crawled back over to Rafael, reaching behind himself for more lube.

 "Before you ask, I want this," Sonny said, knowing that Rafael would ask, would always ask. He'd first found it hypervigilant, slightly laughable, but now chalked it up to an endearing pattern he'd grown used to.

 "Am I that predictable?" Rafael chuckled, briefly locking their fingers together before freeing them.

 "Slightly, I guess," Sonny agreed. His fingers were uncooperative as he tried to tear the foil of the condom wrapper, suddenly uncoordinated and feeling almost like an awkward virgin here under Rafael's eyes. Sometimes he supposed the comparison wasn't quite far off when they found themselves here. He cursed under his breath.

 Rafael took pity on his fumbling, stilling his hands. "Let me help," he instructed, taking the condom and tearing it open, making it look as easy as everything else he'd ever done. Sonny gave him a sheepish look, and the corners of Rafael's mouth twitched into a smile. Sonny liked to see him smile, a good reminder that people still did that sort of thing. He wished there was a way to tell him without sounding maudlin, overinvested. He passed the now-unwrapped condom back to him, with the clear implication that he'd like Sonny's hands on him.

 His hands were steadier now as he stroked Rafael for a second or two, testing his hardness. As ever, the idea of it inside of him gave a shudder of eagerness and apprehension about being made to fit it. He rolled the condom down Rafael's length, marveling a little over the way Rafael kept his hips from lifting into his grasp, only offering a soft, rumbling groan as indication of the feeling that spread through him.

 "Are you ready?" he asked, adjusting against the pillows, extending a hand to Sonny to invite him into his lap. Sonny nodded wordlessly, getting up to his knees and coming to straddle Rafael. The apprehension gave way to impatience, and he positioned himself over Rafael's cock, steadying himself with his hands at either side of the base of Rafael's neck.

 Both of their breaths seemed to catch as Sonny descended onto Rafael's slick cock, letting it enter him as though it had been made to be there. Sonny let out a hushed whimper as the burning stretch, letting himself adjust to it. Rafael's eyes seemed glazed in pleasure, leaning forward to bite at the juncture of Sonny's neck and shoulder. Sonny had never been fucked from this angle before, and he fought to acclimate to it.

 Rafael was breathing hard against his throat now. "Take your time, Sonny," he urged, giving Sonny the permission he needed to will himself to relax. "It's okay if you need some time." His hands slid down Sonny's arms and came to rest on his hips. Sonny's eyes closed and he took a deep breath, aided by the reassuring presence of Rafael's hands. He felt his body relaxing, letting the breath out slowly through his mouth. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his brown and beginning to form on his shoulders.

 "Oh, god," he exhaled on his next breath. "You feel so big this way." Rafael leaned in to kiss him sweetly on the mouth. Sonny initially found himself flushing with disgust over the thought of where Rafael's mouth had been earlier, but it quickly faded and he found himself melting into the kiss, parting his lips to willingly allow his tongue to enter Rafael's mouth.

 "You're so good, Sonny," Rafael whispered against his mouth, trying now to keep himself from thrusting up into Sonny's body, to avoid running the risk of hurting him or scaring him off. "You're always so good for me."

 Almost all of Sonny's unease seemed to evaporate, and he experimentally rolled his hips. He moaned, surging forward against Rafael to kiss him, and delighted in the pleasured gasp it seemed to punch out of the other man. It was encouraging, and he moved again, quicker and harder now this time, and coming down enough to allow Rafael deeper inside of him. He thanked his luck that his movements weren't entirely shot with lust enough to be uncoordinated, moaning again at the feeling that tore through him on each descent of his hips.

 "Yeah," he said shakily against Rafael's neck, clenching his eyes closed.

 "Feels so good, so tight. Like you were made for me to be inside of you." Rafael's voice sounded almost faraway in its wonder, and he was pushing up now, ever-deepening his thrusts in time with Sonny's up and down movements. It was building toward overwhelming for Sonny, the feeling of being consumed into everything and nothing all at once. His thighs trembled across Rafael's lap, and Rafael soothed them and their burning with his always-too-patient hands, whispering muffled endearments against his collarbone in between sucking bites.

 Sonny shakily allowed Rafael to assist him with hands on his hips guiding his pace, speeding it up as the friction became more urgent. Sonny cock bobbed, neglected, between their bodies, though he scarcely paid attention to it with the feeling of Rafael inside of him so present, so overwhelming. He knew he was moaning in earnest now, punctuated with breathy little gasps that he couldn't have bitten back of he had the presence of mind even to attempt.

 "Open your eyes," Rafael said, and Sonny knew that what he might find if he did would knock him further off balance than he was outside of this moment, might make something real that he'd been evading. It was like jumping from a cliff with nothing underneath to catch him, no promise that there would be anything to break his fall.

 He opened his eyes.

 Rafael smiled then, looking at him with what Sonny might think of as open adoration, if he could have ever gotten his head around it. Sonny didn't know what to say, feeling something suffocating and almost-beautiful wrap him in it before he could steel himself against it. It was too much. It was not enough. He felt more adrift than ever since this had begun, since these lines had blurred in their working relationship, in whatever this intersection of lives could be called, in Sonny himself. It was staggering.

 "I - Rafael, please - I - " he stammered, clutching at Rafael's shoulders, their gazes still locked. He felt raw all over.

 Whatever this could be called, Rafael sensed it, and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of Sonny's mouth before leaning back, still surveying his face with a fondness Sonny so rarely saw directed toward him these days, rarely allowed directed toward him these days. "Shh, _cariño_ , I know. I know," he whispered, conceding to leave whatever it was unspoken. "It's all right." He kissed him tenderly, fully on the mouth this time, reaching down to stroke Sonny languidly in time with his thrusts and in coordination with each downward roll of his hips.

 "God, I - that feels so good," he whimpered, allowing the rest of his cries to be caught and swallowed in Rafael's mouth. His movements were becoming jerky now, and he gasped out as Rafael reached up with one hand to tangle his fingers in Sonny's hair. Rafael pulled back with enough gentle force to tilt his head, kissing hotly at the front of his throat and the underside of his jaw, lips and tongue moving over the slightest bit of stubble Sonny tended to accumulate over the weekend. "I'm close," he gasped, feeling Rafael's hands roaming over what felt life every inch of him.

 "Me too," Rafael agreed. His hips were practically snapping up against Sonny now, all control dissipated. "I'm going to come."

 "Let go for me," Sonny urged, wanting so badly to give Rafael what he needed, maybe enough to not make either of them pull away. The feeling within him was suddenly urgent, veering toward anticipating some emptiness after all of this if it didn't work itself out. "Come for me, Raf," he said, letting his lips brush lightly against Rafael's before pressing their mouths together hard.

 Rafael's whole body tensed up, making him practically curl in on himself in a pleasure that looked so good that it hurt, and he offered a loud, guttural moan the likes of which Sonny couldn't remember hearing. He shook all over for a moment as he spilled into the condom, inside of Sonny, hard and uncontrolled. Watching him come undone made a feeling of power surge through Sonny. Rafael only took a moment to lose himself in the force of his climax before resuming quick, rough strokes on Sonny, not making any effort to pull out or adjust to a more comfortable position yet.

Sonny whimpered out, already at the edge from seeing Rafael come.

"Fuck, Sonny," Rafael gritted out, hand moving fast and tight. He pulled his hand away for a split second, just long enough to breathlessly spit into it and resume stroking. Sonny marveled at such an unrefined gesture from the likes of poised, professional Rafael Barba, and the thrill of it mingled with the new sensation of spit-slick strokes made Sonny give a soft cry as he came across his belly, thighs and Rafael's hand and chest. He leaned forward, unable to support himself in its aftermath.

They held each other for several long minutes, coming down, savoring the heat that was between their bodies for now. Rafael eased his softening cock from Sonny's body, making a sympathetic noise as Sonny winced. He tied off the condom and dropped it into the trashcan underneath Sonny's nightstand, trying not to show that he'd noticed it had three neatly crushed aluminum cans in it among the tissues and stray granola bar wrappers. Sonny laid on his side, looking peaceful, and Rafael tenderly dabbed at their bodies with tissues. He reclined on his hand, surveying the situation.

Sonny's eyes opened, and he smiled hazily. "That was good," he said, glad of the events of the evening.

"It was," Rafael said, locking their fingers together for a beat. "It's just - " He could see Sonny flinch, probably having some idea that this was coming. "I should just probably go."

The smolder that had been between the two of them moment before seemed tepid, awkward now that they weren't locked together. Sonny flushed, the memory of his stammering and desperation to keep Rafael close - somehow, any way that might possibly work - seeming foolish and faraway.

He cleared his throat, finding the rest of his voice. "Yeah - I guess so," he conceded, knowing it should be easier to accept lying in the bed he'd made for himself. He knew he could never expect Rafael to stay, never entertain the notion that things would get less muddled. Sonny had never had much ambiguity to tolerate; it was a skill he had never even inched toward perfecting, and now he squirmed underneath the weight of it. There was so much to examine and so little time to do so, draining him to even consider it.

Rafael gathered his clothes - casual, though seeming less relaxed than he had in them when he'd shown up - dressing himself in silence. Sonny watched from the bed, feeling unstitched at the seams. Sonny pulled on his ratty bathrobe, following Rafael to the front door of the apartment, silent as though being led to the gallows.

When they reached it, Rafael turned, holding Sonny's hand for a second before dropping it. He leaned in and kissed Sonny. Sonny allowed it, letting himself hold on to the last vestiges of the night, selfishly stowing them away even though he knew they'd wound him later.

"I'm sorry, Sonny," Rafael said quietly, and Sonny registered that it could probably apply to a number - a dozen, likely - different things, none of them really offenses that Rafael should be taking ownership of. A man with less resolve or more nerve might throw himself to Rafael's mercy, make an effort to get him to stay, to openly ask. Sonny stood, dumbly.

"It's okay. I get it," he said, reaching behind him to unlock the door. He placed one hand on Rafael's waist, kissing him again.

Rafael said his goodbyes and then acted upon them, leaving. His departure was almost merciful in leaving Sonny alone with his thoughts, which Sonny supposed could be seen as a punishment or act of mercy. When he was alone, Sonny sank into the cushions of his sofa, where two good things had happened and started over the course of the evening. Suddenly it seemed less inviting.

The box of wine was empty, as was his fridge. Sonny was displeased, too restless to sleep as always. He considered pulling on something mildly presentable to go out to the bodega, but figured it was futile. He turned the television on, not focusing on the infomercial for the latest knife set where inept people fumbled to use a regular knife before having their lives fixed by the newest line of products.

He sighed, tilting his head back against the cushions, stretching out after a moment and lying down. He closed his eyes, trying to find some rest. It would be hours that he laid before slipping into a few hours of fitful sleep, sunlight through his blinds bringing him awake too early for anyone's comfort on a Sunday morning.

Things would begin all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose that's enough torturing these two for the day. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, and for all of your kind feedback and words!  
> The title of this chapter is from DREAMERS - Sweet Disaster.


	5. v. i was smilin' hard, but i was lyin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say no good deed goes unpunished, and they're right.
> 
> As a warning, this chapter contains a death of a very minor character as canon-typical violence. Also, no one is happy.

Embarrassment was probably the easiest explanation Sonny could think of as to why he hadn't called or texted Rafael in just over a month at this point. He tried not to allow himself to think about what would've happened if Rafael had stayed that last night. It was a good thing. He wasn't sure what he was on the verge of stammering out with Rafael inside of him, but he knew it would've been something he likely couldn't have taken back. Risky. Foolish. Embarrassment was a close cousin of cowardice, but it was a concession he could allow himself.

 He'd thrown himself into studying for the Bar, thrown himself into keeping his head down and doing as damn fine of police work as he could stomach doing with a wholehearted drive these days, but thrown him mostly into the bottle. Sometimes he scrolled through online dating apps when he'd been drinking, trying to match with girls with big, bright smiles, pictures of themselves beaming with girlfriends and holding mimosas, playing with dogs, that kind of shit.

 The thought of quiet intensity made him feel nauseous. There had to be someone out there who made any kind of sense, who he didn't have to puzzle over, who might look at him like a man tarnished by the gory, horrific facets of humanity which had become Tuesday mornings to him - business as usual, as the squad was prone to joke darkly in moments of cynicism.

 Sonny had ended up with a few bites, of course, though short lived: Megan, the elementary school teacher, who he'd been distracted in his date conversation with because he couldn't stop thinking of _how do parents even send their kids to these damn schools; these coaches and tutors do all kinds of fucked up shit_ even though he knew it was vaguely a stretch. There was Allison, who had studied abroad in Spain in undergrad and still delivered a surprisingly engaging monologue about the best grilled cheese she'd ever had in Barcelona. The last in the short string of dates was Sarah, with red hair and a face full of freckles and a toothy, vaguely lopsided smile. She was a nurse, which he found refreshingly commonplace.

 Sarah had gone home with him that night - let him kiss her, let him work with his mouth between her legs, let him inside of her. Her body had been so soft, and he'd missed breasts. It was a relief to Sonny to find himself still relishing in the feel of being with a woman, one he'd worried over being lost to him, but felt dim in comparison to _Rafael fucking Barba, the bastard_. Sarah had made a delighted, breathy noise when he made her come. He wouldn't have minded hearing that on a loop for a few weeks, at least.

 Of course, she'd left too, ushering herself out the door with assurances she'd call, but having to be up early in the morning for an early shift at the hospital which she'd picked up for a coworker. He supposed it shouldn't have surprised him that she didn't call, and quietly wondered if maybe he were just cursed. It felt empty as ever when she'd gone.

 He was still slowly losing weight, to his chagrin, and at least forced himself to take big, demonstrative mouthfuls of pad Thai hunched over his desk so no one would fuss over him. He didn't care to wonder if it was working. The perpetually small amount of food in his stomach made the beer work faster when he blessedly got home from another slow, grinding day, and he supposed at least it had calories.

 The slow, grinding days trudged on as normal, until it happened.

 Sonny pondered distantly how often he ended up in these types of predicaments: standoffs on rooftops, the landscape of the city sprawled out behind and underneath him, so big, but with his point in the world narrowed and small. Later he'd marvel that this could've all occurred with no one below any the wiser. Just another big city cliché. This had become all too normal.

 The perp had been accused - rather definitively, Sonny would add in his statement to IAB - of molesting his daughter for years, almost a decade, in fact. It had all come to light when she'd mentioned it to her violin teacher - one of those high achieving little girls who'd either flourish or languish under the pressure her parents put on her from the get-go. Her father had coerced her into coming up on the rooftop of their apartment building with him during the last gasps of the investigation, ready to be taken into custody, probably in large part due to the handgun he had pressed to her temple.

 It was achingly almost-funny how a gun seemed to be able to accomplish anything these days.

 And here they were - her sobbing _please, please, I'm sorry_ with the crook of her father's elbow tight underneath her chin, gun still pressed hard enough to leave a gradually reddening mark on her face; him yelling _if you take one more fucking step I swear to God_ , Amanda trying her best to soothe and placate and negotiate and all of the stuff that Sonny tried to take advantage of as he prepared to advance a single step forward. It had worked in the past, gotten some of the toughest to lay their weapons down and allow themselves surrender and subsequent prosecution. She was good at talking through it, and he was good at capitalizing slowly on it.

 "That's it, just - " Sonny could hear Amanda saying, but the sentence couldn't even finish leaving her mouth before the two shots rang out, one for the little girl and a self-inflicted gunshot wound for himself, quick and easy and cowardly, spattering Sonny's face and shirt with blood.

 Business as usual, he'd think later, bitterly, when the gun smoke had cleared and he sat in the back of the squad car on the way back to the precinct with blood cleaned off of his face but not his shirt. He remembered the color red marring the little girl's bright yellow hair, couldn't bring himself to look at her face or the crumple of her body, but he knew his mind would play tricks on him and create it in the night when he'd try to escape it.

 But instead, he had to detour to the precinct to draw up a report - tidy paperwork on an atrocity, an unavoidable hazard of the job.

  _I pursued the suspect to the rooftop_ , he typed, feeling sick to his stomach, taking a couple of minutes of deep, quiet breathing to steady himself just get through it, one step closer to the bodega down the street and something stronger than his usual fare, maybe.

 "Take a couple of days when you're done with that, Carisi. Just the facts," Olivia said, coming behind him and patting his shoulder. He felt he had heard that line before more often recently, and it made him feel crippled in ways he resented. He was tougher than people gave him credit for, even if it was only to protect the softness inside of him, the kind he showed to children, animals, the most vulnerable survivors of things he'd seen and absorbed through vicarious trauma. That part seemed silly today.

  _The suspect had his weapon raised. Detective Rollins was following proper hostage negotiation protocol._ And she had, truly, tried as hard as the most competent of negotiators could. Even the best didn't win, Sonny noted, and it seemed to apply all the way through. He powered his way through the last dozen short, perfunctory sentences before submitting the form and shutting off the computer.

 Sonny took a deep breath, sighing down at his desk, one hand against his brow for a long time as he tried to gather his thoughts to prepare to go home. The precinct was rapidly emptying for the day, and he could tell everyone seemed to be tiptoeing around him. Amanda was long gone, home to hug her daughter, to make her dinner and put her to bed.

 There was a clearing of the throat from close to the door, and Sonny's head snapped up as though awaiting orders for another task designed as a formality to keep him reliving the events of the day.

 Rafael stood, door to the outside already open, as though he'd made it halfway through before reconsidering.

 "I heard what happened," he said mildly, wringing the handle of his briefcase as though to ground himself in the sensation. "I'm sorry." Sonny pretended for a moment that the apology covered more than just the shooting, something that could've given him closure on the other thing that would gnaw at him in the future when he'd try to doze off. Nothing ever seemed easy anymore, he told himself, sounding childish to his own ears.

 Sonny could barely meet his eyes, wondering how today could possibly get any worse, knowing he'd find it in the way that Rafael's gaze seemed filled with pity.

 "Well, y'know. What are you going to do," he said flatly in what he hoped would be seen as a sense of being untouched by the events of the day, but know it was futile. He could feel the sharpness of his face settle a little, but he kept his eyes directed toward the now-blank screen of the computer, at least the written reminder now long gone. He cleared his own throat now. "It's just - she was so little, and she died so afraid." The thought of dying in fear always made him feel gray and haunted, made him think of his own, pondering what the inevitable would look like for him one day.

 "I'm sorry," Rafael said again, looking as though he wanted to inch closer but keeping himself trained in one space, a safe distance, proper negotiating protocol. "I'm…is there anything I can do, Carisi?"

 Sonny looked up abruptly, eyes narrowing again. Rafael's gaze was patient, though seeming helpless to figure out what exactly to say. His own response was quick: "I think we both know that what you could do is - " He stopped himself: _not working_. _Not going to happen_. And worst of all: _going to make everything even fucking worse_. That one was true, had always been true - muddying, complicating, making him feel sick. For a moment he thought he could see hurt splash across Rafael's face, but he quickly composed himself, as if it had never been there at all.

 Instead of offering a sharp retort, Rafael just smiled tepidly, almost sadly. He gave a light sigh. "I know what I have to offer that you'll accept," he explained, resigned and sheepish, almost obvious he knew such an offer would wash regret over him later. Their eyes met. "So, it's there if you need it." It pained him to know that Rafael could give what he'd allow, never press for anything more. It was a cautiousness that seemed unfamiliar in Rafael, one Sonny never remembered seeing elsewhere. Maybe it was borne out of self-preservation. It made Sonny feel an ache in the pit of his stomach to find himself the cause of trepidation.

 "Give me an hour or so, will you?" Sonny asked, immediately feeling guilty but not wanting to give into indecision.

 They had left the precinct together, going separate ways, Sonny making his unspoken nightly detour - this time with a fifth of whiskey and a bottle of Coke. Nothing that came in a can would suffice. He didn't typically drink whiskey - someone had once told him _Carisi, you're a mean bastard when you drink that stuff_ ; probably someone at a Staten Island house party a couple of decades ago. It had stuck with him, a cautionary tale most nights. He didn't mind tonight.

 He had stripped off his suit, the bloody shirt, all of it, only bothering to shower quickly and dress himself in thin boxers and a t-shirt. The shirt had always been oversized, but somehow made him feel tonight like it was swallowing him alive. Sonny made his drink strong, savored the way it seemed to burn all the way down and still remain a smolder in his belly. This would do. All this would suffice. He found himself uncaring for what tomorrow would hold, chalking it up to a certain sort of selfishness he'd earned today.

 His hair was wet, thankful to have product, blood, and the faint scent of gun smoke washed free, away and forgotten. Sonny suddenly felt afraid to be alone. He took another drink, handily draining the rest of the plastic Mets cup he always seemed to turn to for his vices.

 The knock at the door startled him, made him wince. He staggered to the door, nowhere close to drunk yet, merely sluggish and slow under the weight of the day.

 Rafael had gone home to change, it seemed. He was wearing frustratingly casual tan pants and a green pullover sweater, still looking relatively unsure. Of course, unsure for Rafael was still ten times better confidence than most people got throughout their lifetime, even after years of dog-earing self improvement books or sitting slumped on a therapist's couch. Sonny tangled his fingers in Rafael's collar, dragging him in for a rough kiss before he could even come through the door.

 For a split second he wondered if he'd made a mistake - in the kiss, in all of this - but Rafael returned the kiss, softening it into a tenderness that Sonny felt he didn't deserve tonight. There was a paper bag Rafael's hands; he hadn't even had a chance to grab onto Sonny.

 "Awfully forward tonight, aren't we?" Rafael observed mildly. The plastic Mets cup was still in Sonny's own hand, empty as though to spite him. Sonny offered no retort, simply retreating to  the kitchen and refilling the cup. Rafael knowingly locked the door behind him, now well-acquainted with the routine. He followed Sonny into the kitchen, watching him haphazardly combine whiskey, Coke and a couple of ice cubes. His expression was resigned.

 "Hello to you too," Sonny said, lifting his glass in a delicate toast as though out of obligation before taking a gulp. He knew he was being difficult and made himself a mental note to soften his edges a bit, not wanting to run Rafael off before he could soak up some small semblance of comfort. "What's in the bag?" he asked, gesturing to where Rafael had set it on the countertop.

 Rafael looked at war with himself for a brief moment before reaching inside and pulling out the item. It was a six pack of Coors - the tall ones, cheap and still sweating with condensation from the walk over. It made Sonny feel like a rock had settled in his stomach and would never budge - maybe it was guilt, but it felt a hell of a lot like being sad. Sadness had come to feel trivial to him, more commonplace in others who'd experienced enough to deserve it more. He laid his hand over Rafael's on the countertop, taking a drink of the whiskey. It would've been a shame to waste it at this point.

 "You didn't have to do that," he said, looking almost helplessly at where their hands joined, unable to meet Rafael's eyes. Maybe it was more of a case of _you shouldn't have_ more from necessity than politeness that was neither of their specialties. "Thank you." It sounded a lot like accepting permission for something he planned to do anyway and would've then slurred out a request for forgiveness. "I just - I know the things about me that you don't like. This," he said, looking pointedly at the cup that was still two thirds full next to the six pack.

 He felt mildly grounded by the feel of Rafael tracing small circles on the back of his hand, taking comfort in the fact that Sonny's initial touch was still welcome.

 "Take what you need from me tonight," Rafael told him, voice as soft at his gesture. The unsettled feeling in Sonny's gut did nothing to lessen, and maybe intensified - he could admit to himself in this moment that he was a good taker in the equation. _I always do._ Sonny ran his free hand through his hair and picked up the Mets cup again. It was a longer drink this time, and he licked his lips afterward. "Do you need to talk about it?"

 "I've talked it to death," Sonny said, his choice of words unintentionally landing clumsily between them. He paused, feeling he owed at least some type of commentary. "It's just - I don't know if it was something I fucked up, or Amanda botched, or the wrong place at the - " He took another drink to shut himself up, feeling the words beginning to tumble out without grace. He let out a wet, hot exhale, knowing his breath smelled strongly, almost like wood. "I gave my report in the interview. It was mandatory. No one batted an eye."

 A sympathetic look had taken over Rafael's entire face. "I wasn't there, so I don't know," he began, and Sonny wondered for a brief second if he'd heard Rafael say _I don't know_ enough to count on more than one hand. " - but what I do know from all of this is that terrible things happen, out of anyone's control. It feels like the world is constantly eating itself and spitting things back out." For such a cynical statement, it felt almost comforting. "You're an excellent detective, Sonny."

 Sonny gave a stilted laugh, almost dismissive in its disbelief. He hoped it didn't hurt Rafael to hear him mistrustful. "Yeah," he said, his head hanging after the laugh. "It's just…there are times when I think I'm the part getting spit out." He didn't feel like speaking in metaphors tonight, wanting something to be simple today but knowing that having Rafael here would do little to accomplish it in the long term.

 Rafael slid his hand up from Sonny's hand to his shoulder, sending a muted shiver through Sonny's frame.

 "That makes sense," Rafael said, not offering further explanation, but Sonny knew his eyes were fixed on the cup of whiskey, following its path as he raised it to his lips. Sonny was past the point of worrying over scrutiny. He felt destructive tonight - toward himself, toward this, toward every part of him that had lodged this months-long drain so deeply within him. Maybe he needed a vacation - maybe it was that simple, but he doubted it. "My father drank whiskey," he observed, seemingly without agenda.

 Sonny sat the cup on the countertop. "I'm sorry," he said, now borderline slurring, not knowing what he was apologizing for.

 "Don't be." It was brief and superficial and did little to ease the guilt. Rafael didn't seem to want to discuss anything beyond, and leaned in and kissed the flushed apple of Sonny's cheek. It felt sweet, almost normal, untouched. Their eyes met, and Sonny shuddered, feeling exposed. Rafael kissed him again, this time on his chapped lips, still chaste. His fingers looped in with Sonny's now.

 All the fatigue seemed to lift from Sonny's body and was replaced by a hot surge of want. He deepened the kiss, suddenly needing all of it, all that he could get. Sonny had never thought of himself as a greedy man - quite the opposite, really - but he found himself here each time, taking, feasting. Rafael made a soft, almost possessive noise against his mouth, backing him up against the refrigerator. It was cold through the thin material of his shirt, and his body jerked forward against Rafael's. Rafael pushed him back, effectively pinning Sonny there. A hot thrill wracked him.

 "Yeah," he breathed, practically smashing their mouths together, not caring that the earthy taste of whiskey would be undeniably present there. Rafael placed his hands on Sonny's hips, pushing backward to keep Sonny from grinding against him. Sonny's hands went up to cup Rafael's jaw, as though kissing him to steal some of his oxygen. It seemed fitting. He felt like he was sinking, drowning before Rafael's eyes.

 "This how you want it tonight?" Rafael asked hotly, breaking away from the kiss and leaning in to rub himself against Sonny. "Want me to make you fight for it?"

 Sonny gave a heavy sigh, arching into the touch. "I'm tired of fighting," he admitted, the long, heavy sigh making him voice breathy, almost rough. He was unsure what he wanted but didn't know how to put the uncertainty into words so that Rafael would mistake it for a refusal. "I don't know what I need," he conceded, hating the accuracy of it.

 Rafael made a knowing sound, backing away a little and stripping both of them of the contact. He picked up the cup and led Sonny to the bedroom, sitting it down on the nightstand, as though giving Sonny a twisted sort of lifeline. "Lie down," he instructed, gesturing toward the center of the bed. Sonny obeyed.

 Standing over where he laid prone on the bed, Rafael stretched his own arms overhead and took his shirts off, casting them to the floor beside it with an abandon of finesse that Sonny hadn't seen. Usually Rafael was slow and frustratingly methodical, but that was gone tonight. Soon his pants, socks and shoes were gone too, leaving him naked and painted with the streetlight that shone through the blinds. Sonny's mouth felt too-dry now.

 He laid down beside Sonny on the bed, kissing him softly, tenderly, uncaring for the taste in his mouth. Sonny gave a soft moan around Rafael's tongue as it pushed past his lips, and now it was Rafael's turn to leave him breathless, fighting to breathe through his nose in a way that felt suitably intoxicating. He didn't move from Sonny's side, instead remaining curled up next to him. Their fingers locked together, resting linked on Sonny's belly.

 "I miss this when I'm not here," Rafael confessed, honest in a way that Sonny didn't know if he could bear under normal circumstances.

 "Me too," Sonny whispered hoarsely, lips even drier than they had been when he got home, wind burnt from too much time yelling on rooftops and city street pursuits for the day, for a lifetime. "Please, Rafael. Please let me touch you." Their lips met again, and Rafael wordlessly let Sonny nudge him to his back. He crawled halfway onto Rafael's body, sliding his hand down his front to wrap his hand around Rafael's hardening cock.

 "Good," Rafael soothed, luxuriating in the feel of Sonny's hand on him combined with the almost silky brush of the well-loved t-shirt. Sonny deserved a thing or two that was well-loved enough to comfort him. "That's good," he repeated as Sonny's hand quickened, tightened a little more around him. His hips lifted a little, looking for more friction which Sonny delivered due to the prompting. It felt nice to give, to switch up the variety, to feel that his greed was not irredeemable.

 "You look so good to me right now. I love seeing you like this," Sonny said, brushing their lips barely together again as he continued to stroke. Rafael leaned his head up, pressing deeper into the kiss, stifling a groan and fighting the urge to thrust too much into Sonny's grasp. Tonight Sonny would be allowed to set the pace.

 Rafael was fully hard now, thick and warm in Sonny's hand in a way that made him shiver with anticipation of anything that he could have tonight. He ran his free hand through Rafael's hair, breaking the kiss to survey his face. Rafael's eyes had fluttered closed, his lips a darkened color and slightly parted. Sonny felt heat throughout his body, wondering how they had gotten to this point, and wondering how he'd let himself get this close. This was not what was supposed to happen. He wanted to curse Amanda for buying those shots so many months ago, setting this whole thing off, but he knew he could never breathe a word of it.

 He could see a furrow beginning to form on Rafael's brow in concentration, trying not to let himself get lost. Sonny's tempo was quick, swiping his thumb over the head of his cock on each of the upward motions, the way he knew he liked himself. Rafael offered a soft, breathy moan as he allowed himself to push upward into Sonny's hand. His thighs trembled slightly, mouth ajar now, though no sound escaped it, and he bit into his bottom lip to fasten it back shut.

 "God, you look so good," Sonny repeated, sealing his mouth over Rafael's again, almost wanting to make Rafael come like this just to see the look on his face. He kissed hotly down Rafael's neck, giving an experimental nip to the skin just above his collarbone, which caused him to offer another little moan.

 "Don't make me come yet," Rafael warned as though reading his mind.

 Sonny kissed him deeply again, smoothing his other hand over the point of Rafael's hip as if to console him as his strokes slowed and loosened, almost lazily. "You're amazing." He couldn't stop himself. Maybe it was the whiskey, he thought, trying to rationalize but knowing deep down that it was futile at this point. It sounded foreign to his own ears, but right at the same time. Their tongues slid against each other for a brief, electric moment before Rafael nudged him away, rolling out from underneath him.

"I want to fuck you," Rafael said, sitting up to face him, to kiss him again, almost unable to bear their mouths apart. "I want to take you."

A hot shudder ran through Sonny's body at the husky roughness in Rafael's voice, knowing he could be claimed if he just allowed himself to lie back and allow it.

"I want that too," he said, almost automatically, with little thought to any other alternative. "I - please, I want you to fuck me so hard." They kissed again, and Rafael was leaning him back to the sheets, tucking one of Sonny's unfortunately thin pillows beneath his head in an assured, competent motion. He smoothed his hand through Sonny's hair, allowing his thumb to brush over Sonny's bottom lip, letting Sonny draw the pad of that thumb briefly between his lips to flick his tongue over it.

Sonny hummed a little around his thumb, wishing he had had the forethought to suck Rafael's cock while he was pliant and vulnerable, almost just to see what would happen, to savor the heady sense of power that could come with it. Rafael slipped his hands beneath Sonny's shirt, dragging his nails lightly over the slight muscles of his chest and further down his side to the waistband of his boxers, now uncomfortably tented and doing absolutely nothing to hide his arousal. He leaned up slightly to tug his own shirt off, unable to muster the presence of mind to drop it next to him on the sheets.

"Gorgeous," Rafael murmured, letting gentle kisses trail down the front of him, down to his belly and over the hair leading down into the boxers. The point of his chin brushed against Sonny's erection, and he found himself wanting more. It was enough to let him allow the endearment, enough to make him fleetingly believe it. "Look at you." He took mercy on Sonny, easing down his boxers, helping him lift his feet to fully escape them. These, too, remained on the bed next to him.

Sonny felt muddy, mind almost reeling but disinterested in sorting any of his thoughts out enough to process what was happening other than the feeling of Rafael against his skin, wanting more of it against every bit of him.

After a moment of kissing Sonny's belly, showing it a strange sense of attention that Sonny couldn't remember anyone else doing, Rafael leaned away to open the drawer of the bedside table to find the lube and condoms. Sonny flinched to himself, knowing one condom remained - less now after what had happened with Sarah. If Rafael noticed, he gave no indication with his back to Sonny. He laid the condom on top of Sonny's abandoned shirt.

"Hitch your legs up for me," Rafael said, opening the cap of the lube. Sonny responded obediently, feeling exposed and vulnerable on his back in a way that he nearly preened under. He waited expectantly, not wanting to rush. "Jesus, Sonny." His voice was thick and low, and he brushed the tip of his now-wet finger against Sonny's hole before easing it inside in an assured motion.

 Rafael's eyes were trained on him, even in the dim light, surveying his expression for any signs of resistance or discomfort, but it did not come. Sonny pushed back against the single finger, wanting more. After several brief seconds of allowing his body to adjust, Sonny whispered a soft plea for more, wanting badly to be fuller. A second finger slid inside the first, and he moaned gratefully.

 "I can't believe you let me do this to you," Rafael murmured, almost reverently. He angled his fingers a little, blessedly so, enough to lightly circle their tips over Sonny's prostate. He gave a choked cry, pressing backward, trying to get more of the sensation that jolted through him. Rafael rubbed over his prostate for what felt like full minutes but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. "Can't believe the noises you make."

 It was as though the ability to make words had left him with a force that startled him, and he let out a series of tremulous whimpers as the unrelenting sensation of Rafael's fingers inside of him brought him to the verge of rattling apart to pieces. His eyes were closed, which only served to make the feeling more intense, almost too much. He wanted to beg, but he couldn't find his voice beyond something akin to a garbled, desperate noise.

 "You want it now?" Rafael asked, even if it was blindingly obvious. Sonny bobbed his head frantically, if only because he didn't know how much of the practiced rubbing inside of him he could take without coming hard and all over both of them. "Think you can keep your legs up like this for me for a while?" As if Sonny could possibly refuse. He'd though about this too, his knees hooked over Rafael's shoulder to give him leverage to almost pound into him, make him take it deeper. The thought was almost more than he could bear.

 "Y-yes, please," Sonny stammered. "Please, please." He was circling his hips now, wordless and desperate, hoping it would be enough to convince Rafael to finally slide into him. "Oh, fuck, I want you so bad." His voice was thick and slurred, and he knew that while the whiskey hadn't helped, the lust coursing through him had pushed all chance of coherence out of him.

 Rafael smiled to himself, rolling the condom on and slicking himself with a haste Sonny hadn't seen before. He positioned himself carefully between Sonny's lifted, splayed legs. "You can have me," he said, the slight smile still on his lips as he positioned his cock against Sonny's slick, slightly loosened hole. Rafael hadn't done much to stretch Sonny, urged on by Sonny's desperation, and he knew it would burn when he pushed inside.

 Sonny's breath left his lungs entirely as Rafael entered him, slow and unyielding, and he took a series of short, sharp gasps trying to regain it. His knees ached a little in this position, but it was nothing compared to the way Rafael was able to get deeper inside of him as he finally bottomed out after several seconds of considerate but agonizingly patient slowness. Rafael gave him a second to at least make an attempt to regroup himself before drawing slowly out partway before moving back, deep.

 " _Fuck_ \- that feels so - " Sonny gasped, his head tilted back, eyes gone wide. "I - I'm so - "

 "So good," Rafael agreed, adjusting to lean forward so he could kiss him again, going even deeper if it were possible. Sonny cried out, muffled against Rafael's mouth. "You feel so good for me, Sonny, always," and Sonny wished he could always be good in other ways too, found himself painfully aware that he was rarely _good_ to Rafael outside of these moments, pinned to his back, open and wanting. Rafael licked into his mouth, sloppy and affectionate.

 He continued to give slow, deep thrusts, trying to drag Sonny slowly through it, in no hurry to make him come. Sonny's cock lay neglected against his stomach, but he didn't care for the moment, perfectly content to enjoy being stretched to fit, open and needy. His face and neck were flushed red and splotchy, down across his chest. He felt consumed, wanted for anything he could offer up.

 Rafael's hips kept a consistent pace, impossibly deep and rolling. Sonny was moaning in earnest now, unable to keep the sounds guarded and to himself. Rafael drew his thumb across Sonny's windpipe, enjoying the way he could feel the rattling vibrations there beating against his hand. He squeezed the way he'd come to know Sonny liked so intensely, not enough to restrict airflow significantly but certainly enough to make Sonny feel out of control in the way he loved.

 His hand then slid down Sonny's front, gently twisting one of his nipples and rolling the dusky peak between the forefinger and thumb of his strong, steady hand. Sonny thrashed and whimpered, a sharp heat of pain thrumming through him in a way that made his toes curl up in the air - so good, so much more than he'd ever dared to hope for with a partner in his life.

 "I’d give you anything you wanted," Rafael rasped out, twisting again. He wanted to feel Sonny's desperate cry against his mouth when he came, wanted to swallow it to take home with him. "I want to make you feel so good."

 "Y-you do - fuck, _please_ ," Sonny pleaded, eyes wide and helpless. "Please - I'll do anything you want." It occurred to him in a fleeting, pitiful corner of his mind that this may have been one of those _throes of passion_ vows that people rarely kept, a heat of the moment promise that became void in the afterglow. They'd traded them before, and he'd blushed about them later even when the veil of alcohol was back, accomplishing the opposite of its intent.

 "You do," Rafael agreed, pushing in harder now. His left hand firmly held Sonny's leg back, allowing him a break, only making him hold the right - teamwork, Sonny thought, almost fondly. His hand skittered down his body, tightening around Sonny's cock, precome easing the way as he traced his thumb around the head.

 Sonny's mouth was wide, soundless for a moment before offering a high keening moan as Rafael's strokes hastened in time with the movement of his hips. It was as though he were careening toward his orgasm, unable to hold back but praying he could draw it out for a while longer before the moment would snap and reality would come back to the two of them. He wanted to make it last, even if it was just for Rafael's pleasure. Rafael brought their mouths back together, nipping at Sonny's bottom lip. Sonny took a couple of hiccupping breaths, almost mindlessly incautious about the way he was practically sobbing in pleasure into Rafael's mouth.

 It was too good, more than he deserved.

 "I'm going to make you come," Rafael told him, clearly meaning it as deeply as anyone ever could've to another person. "You need it, and you've earned it." Sonny felt himself choking on something, maybe something he hadn't felt in longer than he cared to admit for - cherished? Adored? It was too much; it was everything; it was frightening both in sentiment and how much he wanted it, hungered for it. He felt like he was being suffocated to death, beautifully and perfectly so. "You look so beautiful right now; I wish you could see yourself."

 " _Please_ \- I tried - I tried to be so good," he sobbed, no tears coming, but the tone of desperation unmistakable. It was as though he was begging for his life, begging for penance for everything he'd ever done wrong in his life as though Rafael could give him the space to atone for once.  "I - I want to - "

 Rafael seemed unfazed by the burst of emotion that seemed to tear through Sonny, save for the fact that his thrusts became jerkier, close himself. "You were. You _are_ ," he soothed, mouthing wetly up Sonny's throat to his lips. He broke away for a split second to rasp against his cheek, "come for me, _cariño_ , do it." He punctuated it with a short series of hard thrusts and coupled strokes, and before Sonny could try to hold himself back, he found himself erupting inside, shattering into smithereens beneath Rafael, coming so hard between them that he could've sworn he saw stars. Through the haze of almost-violent force of his orgasm he was distantly aware of Rafael giving a few more now-uncontrolled movements of his hips, clearly set off balance by the involuntary clenching of Sonny's muscles, and coming hard himself.

 They took several moments to simply breathe into each other's mouths, cooperating, sharing. Rafael was carding his fingers through Sonny's hair, murmuring to him in words he couldn't decipher, probably in a mix of his two languages. Sonny was shaking all over, as though hypothermic, and Rafael eased his broad hands up and down Sonny's sides to comfort him before easing himself out of Sonny's sated body. He disposed of the condom and went into the bathroom for a warm wet washcloth.

 When he returned, he found Sonny still laid out of the bed, having not moved except to cover his eyes. He ran the cloth gently over the crevices of Sonny's body, wiping away the come that had spilled all over Sonny, still softly offering up endearments. Sonny's hands were over his eyes, fixed and unmoving. Rafael puzzled over it but met the sight with a growing sense of unease. Once Sonny was cleaned, he leaned up to kiss Sonny gently on the lips, all insistence gone. Sonny did not remove his hands from his eyes.

 "Sonny?" he asked, placing what he hoped to be a comforting hand at the curved point of Sonny's bent elbow.

 Sonny took a few more quiet seconds to try to regain his breath, still flushed. There was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. "I just - I know that this is - " He paused, as though pleading not to have to finish the sentence. The sick weight had settled back within him, temporarily forgotten but now back in an arguably-worse full force.

 Rafael waited, not removing his hand. "What?"

 Sonny's eyes remained hidden, not sure what would happen if he removed them to face the world, to face Rafael. He took a shuddering breath. "This is the part where you leave," he said, his voice lukewarm now.

 For a moment, Rafael sat, unsure how to respond, to confirm the begrudging accuracy of the statement. "I meant what I said, you know," he said, finally removing his hand to now place it on Sonny's shoulder. "I'd give you anything you wanted, but it seems you won't let me. Not without something to ease the way." They both knew the implication of _something_ , and it was sitting right next to the bed, poised tauntingly on the nightstand. Rafael refused to look at it.

 Sonny sat up slightly against the pillows, now daring to lower his hands. His eyes looked reddened, and tired. "I just - I can't - " he tried, forcing himself to try and take a moment to reconsider, though it became apparent that he'd made the wrong decision yet again. "I'm not…like that." It was as though his mind had forced him to speak and then betrayed him for it. It sounded almost adolescent, like something teenagers would taunt each other with in the locker room, and he would've blushed to hear himself speak it if his cheeks weren't already hot with embarrassment.

 Rafael made a knowing noise, as though he'd been preparing himself for weeks for this type of statement over the past few weeks - maybe since the beginning. It came out in a soft scoff, landing hard and heavy on Sonny, and he winced. "Not like that," he mused to himself, almost in disbelief. "So you weren't _like that_ all the times you called me over here, kissing me? Begging me to fuck you?" Sonny was openly cringing now, whether it was at Rafael's words or at the memory of his own wanton behavior. He could accept that Rafael's statements were borne of weeks of dancing around what this meant or didn't mean, all the nights they'd shared and then cast to the wayside when the sun came up and Sonny had sobered up; they still landed with what he'd consider cruelty if he couldn't admit they were justified.

 "I don't know what you want me to say; I just want you to stay," he said weakly, knowing he'd wake up yelling out in his sleep tonight, if he slept at all. It was a selfishness he could acknowledge within himself, though not without some sickness.

 "Why would I want to stay?" Rafael asked, something unrecognizable splashed across his face. "This won't last through your hangover, Sonny, even if you have enough tonight to make it last all day long, and both of us know it." The tension was so thick he was pulling on his clothing as if to defend himself against it until he could mercifully escape it. He had pulled on his shoes in a haste, not even bothering to tie them, desperate for the simple survival act of fleeing.

 "I'm not your _fucking_ father," Sonny spit out through gritted teeth, not sure where the statement had come from but knowing it had landed with its intent. He couldn't tell if he regretted the statement or relished in the reaction it got - maybe it was both. Maybe he'd feel differently about it tomorrow.

 Rafael rounded on him, an anger Sonny had never seen splashed across his features. He was suddenly struck with the mental image of a young Rafael Barba lunging at others on the schoolyard for sneering and laughing at him - _where's your dad, Rafi?_ \- pummeling with fists and a rage he'd since tempered with age. It made him wince when he could tell there was hurt mixed with it as well, and it almost made him wish that he'd be hit as punishment. Being hit made sense; people got hit all the time, beaten into submission, made to obey as a survival tactic. Sonny had learned this rule early on in his career, had to pick it up as he hit the ground running and the idealism was throttled out of him.

 "If you were in your right frame of mind right now, I'd certainly be a little less charitable," he said icily, almost threateningly. "Maybe you're right, but he'd never expect someone else to be a midlife sexuality crisis."

 It was as though they'd both become different people than they'd ever been in the space of this room, this apartment. Rafael's words had always been a weapon, one that served him in the courtroom and other spaces he occupied on the job. The law and the showmanship that accompanied it rarely left him, rarely gave him the space to let his guard down. Sonny had perverted that, maybe used it to his advantage a time too many. Now the words Rafael used to propel him forward, to preserve something within him that needed protected over time had come back in full force, thrown at and sticking into Sonny.

 "Go home," Sonny ordered, though his voice seemed tired to his own ears, but Rafael was already headed to the door.

 "I will. Your drink is next to the bed," Rafael said coldly before stepping through the door, shutting it behind him. He hadn't slammed it, but it sounded especially deafening when it closed.

 Sonny slapped one hand down beside him on the bed, making a disappointingly half-hearted thud against the rumpled sheets. He dug his nails painfully into the palm of his other hand, leaving deep, red half moons in the rough skin. The bed was still warm, as though the argument had happened in a split second before Rafael had simply evaporated out of the room, never to be seen again. And, Sonny thought to himself with a brief sense of regret, he probably was never to be seen again.

 He wasn't sure how to feel about it - it could be so easy to chalk it up to cutting something toxic out of his life, just a phase, just a passing of time. Life was all about seasons, and he could've directed his attention to the idea, the hope, that this would all seem like a lifetime ago when the weather warmed again. He could take up running. He could date again. He could eat rich foods and fill himself out. Things would blossom again and things would feel less dour, color gradually coming back to the parts of the city that remained able to green up amid the dirty concrete and alleyways piled with rubble. Time would move on; he could hope that he would too.

 Sonny knew Rafael had been taunting him by mentioning the generous pour of whiskey and Coke leaving a drying ring on his bedside table, but he still picked it up. Maybe it was spite for the vestiges of the evening that had been impossibly, uncomfortably good right up until they weren't. He choked it down. It was warming and going flat more quickly than he'd hope, but again, would be a shame to waste. It was hot going down and made him feel uncomfortably full and warm on the inside. He knew he would be sore in his body tomorrow; what trouble would it add to have a headache on top of it all?

 The truth was that he was angry. The conversation was long overdue, but every syllable of it - even his own - had been like walking on broken glass. He didn't think that any amount of whiskey could've blotted out the way that Rafael had looked at him when he had snidely broached the topic of his father - a man angry, basking in solitude and stinking of cheap whiskey, and Sonny sitting there as a close comparison in the bed Rafael had just left. The part of him that wasn't angry at Rafael for needling him was angry at himself for drudging it up. Anger lapped at him for hurling that level of vitriol at someone who had kissed him against his own sheets, even knowing the insides of him that were ugly, the parts that hurt, the parts he'd hoped never saw light.

 In middle school he'd stolen a pack of cigarettes - his first, and close to his last - from the corner store down the street from his grandparents' house. His father discovered Sonny leaned against the backside of the shed in the backyard, smoking one with dizzy, giddy relish at the secret of doing something _bad_. Pop had made him smoke half of the pack before pleading to be allowed to stop. It was a different time. Then his father had plucked the pack from his fingers, never to be seen again, and ruffled Sonny's hair, putting a gentle arm around his shoulder. _Come on, Sonny - that shit'll kill ya_ and ushered him inside for ice cream.

 The memory came back to him as he grudgingly choked down the last half of the glass of whiskey, the less than satisfactory remnants almost a punishment - too much of a good thing. He felt nauseous. That was the effect good things had on you, he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was particularly difficult to write; not going to lie, I kind of agonized over it - don't hate me!
> 
> The title of this chapter is from Labri Siffre's "I Got the..." which is actually a really fitting song for these two.  
> Thank you as always for reading, and for your kind feedback and words!


	6. vi. break out of character for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies were never Sonny's strong suit, but they're at least good enough for a bit of uncharted territory.

Little had changed in two months, and to his chagrin Sonny found that he had not made any of the rose-colored life changes he'd dreamed up to distract himself from the routine he'd lapsed into this winter: he'd not taken up running as the days grew longer; he still picked at junk convenience foods and paltry snacks instead of actual, substantial meals; he certainly hadn't pursued or even seriously entertained the idea of dating again.

 There were times Sonny managed to coax himself out to the corner bar instead of holing himself up in his apartment with whatever struck his fancy in the bodega on the way home from the precinct. There were lively girls who'd sidle up to him at the bar, all long hair and coy smiles and challenges to play darts; there were girls who'd breathe sloppily against his neck, who he'd take home and fumble with for an hour or two.

 He didn't mind when girls left his apartment, didn't mind when they'd evaporate and leave him, slouched and loose-postured on the sofa. It didn't leave the hollowness in his chest that'd he'd felt when Rafael left, hadn't punched him in the gut and knocked the wind out of him like the last time Rafael had turned on his heel and retreated after their argument.

 If nothing else, Sonny could take pride in the fact that he had made good on his promise to himself not to reach out to Rafael in the last two months. Their exchanges in the precinct or the courthouse had been formal, perfunctory, even terse, so much so that he'd caught Amanda raising an eyebrow out of the corner of his eye more than once before busying herself with paperwork or exaggeratedly squinting at her computer screen to mask her own notice.

 As much as he'd mentally kicked himself for months about the events of the last time - really, about the entire thing - he was still quietly consumed with the memory of Rafael's hands and mouth on him, the feel of Rafael's fingers possessively splayed across his throat as he moved inside of him, the way he'd kissed him so gently that it almost felt like his imagination playing tricks on him. Sometimes he still jerked himself off thinking about all of it.

 Sometimes he'd allow his mind to wander even further, imagining now-impossible scenarios of what he'd like if he hadn't mishandled things so drastically - Rafael holding him down, tying him up, kissing him with his hand tight around his throat so he couldn't breathe. That time he couldn't even get his boxers down all the way before he'd begun frantically pulling at his cock. He'd come with his cock only halfway out of his pants, soiling them before he could think ahead to the consequences of being more than several days away from doing laundry. Thinking ahead had never been his strong suit, highlighted even more so recently. When he was feeling less charitable with himself, Sonny wondered if he had ever made a decision that could be trusted without hesitation.

 Amanda had dragged him out after work one evening, one where Jesse was with a sitter and he could see the need to go out and be around another adult for once practically rolling off of Amanda in waves. Sonny had initially tried to protest with a half-cocked excuse about needing to study, but if he could say one thing for Amanda it was that she never went down without a fight, especially when whiskey was on the table. It had been months since they'd done something like this, and once he'd found himself perched on the barstool beside her, he remembered what good company she was.

 They were two drinks deep when Amanda had apparently decided to put her detective hat on and put Sonny up for interrogation, but it was so subtle he didn’t notice what was happening until it was too late.

 "So," she said, her voice roughened by alcohol and tiredness Sonny knew he was carrying himself as well. It was bone-deep more often than not, and Sonny had seen it all over almost every cop he'd ever known. She leaned her chin against her hand. "You've seemed stressed," she observed plainly, as though trying to dangle the worm in front of him and tempt him to elaborate without setting her own agenda for the conversation.

 "We're all stressed," he agreed, nursing a Busch tall boy for old time's sake. Amanda regarded him skeptically but didn't push. "I hate the winter," he supplied, as though that explained everything, as though that would be a sufficient answer for Amanda, though he knew she would know better - she always seemed to. Amanda was a hell of a detective, despite her faults and impulses, and sometimes Sonny envied the way she could cut a situation down to size and trim away all the excess details. She was plainspoken and no-nonsense, not to mention fully capable of out-drinking him or kicking his ass at pool, which she immediately suggested as a distraction.

 Another drink and a half had passed before she broached the subject again, leaned over the pool table and studying the possible trajectory of the eleven ball. It was something he imagined her doing in Georgia dives for years, and it made him feel distantly fond.

 "I guess you're right about all of us being stressed," she said nonchalantly, though the subject had been forgotten to the side for quite a while at this point. Sonny leaned against his cue, and Amanda made a frustrated wave for him to take his beer off the side of the pool table to shake off an unwanted distraction. Her eyes were fixed on the ball as she made several tentative, practiced pokes in its direction, testing before committing. "For example, Barba seems pretty stressed in your direction lately," she said, punctuating it by striking the eleven ball in a smooth motion. It glided across the table and collided with the ten ball, sinking both of them handily. Sonny cursed under his breath, partly at Amanda's win inching closer and partly at her pointed observation of workplace dynamics.

 She turned her head up at him, regarding him with a patient, prompting look, detoured from the prospect of gloating.

 Sonny shrugged. "You know how he is," he said, trying to sound casual and unruffled.

 "I do," she agreed, though sounding thoroughly unconvinced. "I know how you are too, and snippiness isn't really something you whip out often."

 "I'm not snippy," he protested, sounding petulant to his own ears. Amanda gave an abrupt, huffy laugh, taking a drink, almost wanting to imitate his tone if she weren't interested in hearing his defense of himself. The beer was giving a pleasant thrum in his veins, relaxing as ever, especially out in public when he hadn't cooped himself up in his apartment with only his thoughts or the grating sitcoms he'd put on to distract himself from those thoughts.

 "If you say so," she said, gesturing for him to take his turn at the pool table, but suddenly his interest had waned due to his impending defeat. He straightened a little and took a long drink of his beer, crinkling a large dent in the can when it was empty. This time he returned it to the side of the pool table, and Amanda made a face at his audacity to disrupt the sanctity of the game. "All I know is that you two were icy as hell during the Hobbs case when you were talking about the warrant to toss the storage unit, and I've noticed it since then." She held up the hand that wasn't wrapped around her short whiskey glass. "Just saying."

 Sonny sighed. "Listen, the details aren't important," he found himself saying without caution before he could keep himself from spilling even the most minute information. "It's just - y'know, life is complicated. It'll get better."

 Amanda laughed knowingly and didn't press forward. "Life is complicated," she agreed solemnly, making them both laugh at the understatement. "Listen, I don't care what this shit is, but as someone who is getting secondhand tension headaches every time the two of you try to out-cold the other one, I am begging you to uncomplicate it quick." The drawl in her voice was coming out, the sure sign of a good time.

 He regarded her with a sidelong glance, reminded of every time his ma would tell him to work out a spat with his sisters - _for Christ's sake, Sonny, just apologize and quit standing in front of the TV._ Sonny rolled his eyes but murmured his assent. He returned his attention to the game, lacking in the finesse it would've taken not to sink the eight ball prematurely. "God damn it," he said, striking the side of the table in an exaggerated display of loss.

 Amanda made a noise of delight. "You gotta start practicing once in a while or I'm going to start getting bored taking all your money," she said, practically gloating. She jerked one thumb in the direction of the bar. "Pay up, Carisi."

 Tradition dictated the loser - always Sonny, to his dismay - pay up in shots, and he was nothing if not dutiful, and elected to do so in tequila. He knew Amanda always took tequila as a challenge, and that was one of the many reasons he liked it when she'd drag him out like this. Tequila gave him a warm, happy haze. It was simple. It was fun. It was like going on vacation from the mundane drinks of his routine - an occasion.

 Soon he was swaying on his feet, pushed pleasantly over the edge and wavering on his feet. Amanda looked composed but happy, cheeks slightly reddened and eyes bright. "Go home," she said, patting him on the back as she closed her own tab. "Get some rest and please, _please_ \- come Monday, get your shit together with Barba. Remember," she said, tapping her temple with one still-quick index finger, " - tension headaches." He laughed and waved in the direction of the door, and she was gone.

 Once his own tab was clear, he pondered his next move, knowing he was best off going home, eating some leftover Chinese and falling into as pleasant of a sleep as he could sometimes manage these days, but at the same time knowing tequila would likely have different ideas.

 And that was how he found himself on the street, taking the longer than expected walk to the court offices, steps feeling light but sounding loud and uncoordinated. The night air didn't feel as cold as he'd expected, despite the fact that he could see his breath on the way. It was nice to get some fresh air outside of the humidity of the grungy bar he'd been posted up in - as refreshing as available in the city - and he savored his own impulsivity, the decision to be the bigger person and proactively get his shit together _before_ Monday.

 Since it was unpleasantly late on a Friday night, the court offices were largely empty, and the night security guard recognized him and waved him in, barely taking his eyes off of the monitor playing reruns of The Office on Netflix and potentially ignoring the stink of tequila out of politeness or inattention.

 The ride up in the elevator seemed to be over within the blink of an eye, and Sonny hummed in contentment at the buzzing in his veins on the way up. He paused for what felt like a long moment outside of the ADA's door, admiring those fine gold letters and feeling quietly thankful to see the glow of a desk lamp through the frosted glass. Sonny tapped his knuckles against the wooden frame of the door, hoping he'd tempered the sound of an abrupt cop knock.

 He heard a muffled rustling of papers being sat down on a desk on the other side and a couple of quick, assured footsteps striding toward the door. It was only until the last couple of steps that Sonny found a little clarity of mind to be overwhelmed with regret for this decision, to find a rush of nervousness bubble up at the last second.

 Rafael stood on the other side of the door before Sonny knew it, eyes slightly widened and certainly not pleased. After a brief flicker of surprise, his eyes narrowed, and the coldness which now felt commonplace, familiar, was there to replace it. Sonny was selfishly glad for Rafael's steadfast dedication to avoiding leaving a task unfinished until Monday whenever possible.

 " _What_ are you doing here?" he practically hissed, sticking his head out the door looking for any passersby who might be foolish enough to be hanging around the office on a Friday night instead of out living their lives like _normal_ people did at the dawning of an overdue weekend. He dragged Sonny through the door of his office by the cuff of his jacket and shutting the door behind him.

 "I just - " Sonny said, almost helplessly, any explanation he might have come up with disintegrating into dust and slipping through his fingers. "I wasn't sure if you'd be here and I wanted to see you." It was a simple, honest explanation, one he hoped Rafael might appreciate. At least the tequila had taken the edge off enough to leave a sense of optimism that felt unfamiliar to him these days.

 "You wanted to see me, so you showed up at my office reeking of booze." Rafael laughed to himself, almost in disbelief. "I don't know what else I would've expected." It had certainly sounded like a better idea in Sonny's head, and he felt increasingly more sheepish the long he stood. "Did you stop to consider that I might not be interested in seeing you?" The sentence stung.

 Sonny felt his cheeks colored from more than just the warmth of tequila. "I - I guess I wasn't thinking," he said quietly, voice shrinking with each passing syllable.

 Leaving Sonny to stand awkwardly at the door, Rafael returned to the fine leather of his desk chair, sitting down and busying himself to arrange his papers and files in a neat stack, interrupted now and preparing to leave to go home. The spell of his concentration had been broken, and Sonny could see the unbridled annoyance simmering within him.

 "That sounds awfully par for the course for you, Carisi," Rafael said dismissively, sorting through his stacks for find the files that would be best at home with him over the weekend. "I'd expect nothing less."

 The warmth of the tequila was fading, and Sonny suddenly missed the pleasant happiness he'd found in it before making such an ill-advised decision. There was probably a good late night talk show he was missing right now, something that would've paired nicely with Chinese food and flannel pajama pants and wouldn't have left him feeling foolish, as much as he could admit he deserved.

 "I'm sorry," he mumbled, feeling nauseated and suddenly very heavy. He wanted to sit down. "This is not what I wanted to happen."

 Rafael regarded him with a withering, almost loathsome stare. "I think I have some suspicion of what you wanted to happen," he said, and Sonny knew he was right, but it stung no less to hear it out loud. "I thought that you weren't like that." His tone was openly mocking now, anger apparent on his face.

 And he hadn't been, still wasn't. Sonny had tried to think about other men, testing the waters, pressing on a bruised part of him to see if it still hurt. He didn't feel the hot, heady thrill of what Rafael had given him when he looked at other men, having a drink or two and experimentally pulling up gay porn on his laptop to see if it would provoke a similar reaction. He'd felt his cock stir in vague interest, but only fully hardening when he'd pause the video in frustration and turn back to his fantasies.

 It had been about a month into their period without contact that Sonny had finally mustered up the courage to experiment with himself, to slick his own fingers with lube. He'd shifted onto all fours, alone in the middle of his bed, feeling self-conscious. He'd spread his legs wide on the mattress, reaching back between his legs to wetly trace the edges of his hole with a slick finger before pressing in the pad of it. Sonny had exhaled a hot, humid breath against the soft skin of his upper arm where it pressed against his mouth, trying to push in further but finding he couldn't reach as deeply as he wanted. He had half-heartedly tried another couple of positions before giving up and returning to wantonly thrusting his cock into his own hand to finish.

 Things didn't seem to come close when he tried to substitute them with his own actions.

 "I don't know," Sonny offered, voice pitiful and almost hopeless to his own ears. "It's just you. I don't know." The repeated statement was meaningless and everything all at the same time - there was so little Sonny felt sure of these days; this was just one more entry on the list. "I'm sorry. It's just - since all of this, nothing makes sense anymore." He felt like he was fraying, coming apart at the edges and spiraling into a rickety incoherence.

 Rafael was now regarding him with what seemed most akin to abject pity. "Sonny, I've been sleeping with men since I was in college," he said, voice sounding tired, without the energy to fight. "You wouldn't be the first straight man who wanted a hand to hold while wading through some type of sexuality experiment. I've outgrown it."

 There was no coherent argument Sonny could offer, mired in guilt and too muddled to talk his way through it. He sank into the firm, comfortable leather of the couch in the office, paying no mind to Rafael's preparation to leave, hanging his head to bury his face in his hands for a second or two. This had been a terrible mistake.

 "I'm sorry," he repeated, voice muffled by the heels of his palms where they obstructed his mouth. "This is all so stupid." Rafael made no motion to agree or object, just started at him from his desk chair, paused in his preparation to leave. Sonny looked up blearily, eyes as reddened as his cheeks. He let out a heavy sigh. "I've just never felt this way before."

 The statement felt heavy on his tongue, and he found himself oddly relieved to let it go out between them. It was certainly the truth.

 Something in Rafael's expression had softened, almost into sympathy now, anger still present but tabled safely on the back burner. "I don't know if this can make sense to you; it doesn't seem like much makes sense to you these days after five o'clock," he mused, but there was no bite to the statement. Sonny gave a heavy sigh and a single, clipped nod but made no attempt to speak. He wanted to stand, to leave, but there was so little energy in him now that he remained.

 Several minutes seemed to pass in silence, though he could almost convince himself that it was a companionable one. Rafael cleared his throat. "You're drunk, Sonny." It was an unnecessary observation, and his voice was sad. "You should go home." It was an accurate statement, but Sonny couldn't seem to move.

 "Yeah," he said distantly. His mind was already reeling, worrying already what Amanda would say now that he could likely never _get his shit together with Barba_ , not after this. Things had taken a turn for the worse tonight, even more so than before. He wanted to sink into the floor, never to be seen again, deemed a missing person for the rest of time. It was as much as he deserved.

Rafael was on his feet now with a heavy sigh, forgetting his briefcase for a moment to hook his hands under Sonny's arms and help him to stand. Sonny found himself unable to meet Rafael's eyes, to form words, to do anything else but stare at the knot of Rafael's tie. His eyelids were almost heavy with the exertion of drinking heavily and losing face as a result. Nothing new.

"Your apartment's farther away than mine," Rafael observed, voice sounding resigned to caring for Sonny one final time. "Just come with me."

Sonny's eyes snapped up to meet Rafael's, so quickly his head almost reeled at the change in scenery. "What? No, I - " he tried to object, but the prospect was equally terrifying and exciting. He closed his mouth and reconsidered his words. "I know you don't - we don't do that, Rafael." It sounded simplistic to his ears, but the implications ran deeper than he could sort through right now. It was a level of intimacy they hadn't dealt with - Sonny had never been invited to Rafael's, had never been invited to share a bed presumably for the entire night with the expectation that he'd find Rafael next to him in the morning light. He was afraid.

"We're not doing what we normally do," Rafael warned. It was almost a quiet relief to Sonny, knowing what they _normally_ did would be far more than he deserved these days. Sonny wasn't sure why he had come tonight, why his feet had seemingly guided him in the ill-advised direction possible, but it was as though the thought of being kissed, being laid out on his back and made to fit Rafael had just now occurred to him. He tried to push down the shiver of excitement than ran through him.

"Yeah," he slurred, and Rafael turned him gently to face the door, nudging him then to step forward.

The walk to Rafael's apartment was brisk, several blocks that flew by before he could register his surroundings fully. Rafael's building had an elevator and probably cost double what Sonny's did. It occurred to him when they paused so Rafael could unlock the door that he was being allowed in somewhere he'd never expected to see, invited into the place that Rafael had kept guarded from him perhaps out of the more convenient location of Sonny's apartment, but more likely due to the goal of protecting himself from intimacy he expected Sonny would be unable to give him. Sonny felt something inside of him aching at the intimacy and wondered when he'd become so damn sentimental, so unrepentantly earnest in the way he wanted to please.

Rafael's apartment was warm and composed, immaculately clean in neutral tones. There was a picture on the top of a densely, tidily packed bookshelf of Rafael with his mother, the two of them casual and beaming with Rafael's arm around her at his Harvard graduation. He looked genuinely happy, light and assured in his skin, and Sonny felt affection bloom in his chest. It was dim in the room, and the warmth made him feel even sleepier.

"Let's just go to bed," Rafael said, sitting his briefcase on a plush chair in the living area. He had toed his shoes off beside the front door before coming in further, clearly painstaking to avoid tracking the filth of the city into the confines of his apartment. "You look like a dead man walking." Sonny hovered awkwardly only a few steps inside the door, tentative and rooted to the spot. Rafael disappeared into the kitchen, and Sonny could hear water running.

He returned with a full tumbler of water and a small bottle of Tylenol, gesturing for Sonny's hand to coerce him into holding out his palm. He shook two of the pills into Sonny's hand, though Sonny knew it would probably take more than that to keep a headache from driving in between his eyes first thing in the morning.

"Drink," Rafael said, practically forcing the tumbler into his other hand. There was no malice in the order, and Sonny complied, swallowing the pills down and draining the glass obediently. He retreated again to the kitchen and filled it again, passing it back and prompting Sonny to drink the second glass. He then ushered Sonny toward the bathroom, giving him a spare toothbrush with his dentist's name stamped on the handle, still in shrink wrap from his last cleaning.

"You don't have to do this," Sonny protested, his voice bordering on tremulous now.

"I know that," Rafael said dismissively, busying himself with brushing his own teeth as though to prevent himself from offering further clarification. Sonny felt a knot of shame raveling in his stomach, knowing he had taken and would continue to take as long as Rafael continued to give without reciprocation, perhaps resigned to the idea that Sonny could never seem to reciprocate. Sonny wished he could crowd in and put his arms around Rafael, to bury his face in his neck and pretend that this were something normal, something he was worthy of despite all he had left in his wake.

Rafael was flossing now, and Sonny quietly marveled over it, trying not to stare at someone being so responsible with himself. Sonny took a step forward and unwrapped the toothbrush, wetting it quietly before he began brushing. Rafael's toothpaste was something overpriced, fancy and organic that Sonny might typically scoff at but somehow seemed fitting here.

They finished in the bathroom and Rafael led him to the bedroom, making no move to touch him in a way that could be deemed suggestive. He undressed himself without any flair, simply stepping out of his clothing and into a pair of linen pajama pants and a thin white undershirt. Sonny looked on helplessly, trying again not to let his eyes rake over Rafael's exposed skin but failing miserable.

His staring was interrupted by a withering look from Rafael once he had been caught. "We're not doing that," he said warningly, turning the covers of his neatly made bed back and crawling underneath them. Sonny uncertainly took his own clothes off, left in his boxers and his own undershirt before crawling into bed next to Rafael. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling as Rafael turned out the light.

"I'm sorry," Sonny told him again, voice seeming tiny in the darkened space of the room. He felt ill, and out of any words that might have any hope of ever fitting, of ever being enough.

"I know that," Rafael repeated, adjusting his body to try and settle into some comfort to ease him to sleep. The sheets were so fine, so soft that Sonny couldn't help but sigh in contentment as they brushed his skin, and he was suddenly hyperaware of his surroundings. To his shame, he felt something wet prickle against his eyelashes, as if the night couldn't get any worse.

Sonny shook for a few split seconds, trying to blink something back that tequila and Busch still threatened to drag from him. He'd had a handful of times in the past where he'd been brought to this point, when his emotions had been pulled from him by the drink and laid out bare against his will. He gave a damp, shuddering breath, unmistakable and humiliating in its betrayal, soon joined by another one. It was all too much.

There was an immediate drawback to spending any amount of time with someone in the field, Sonny supposed - that you could run from being sized up, but never hide from or escape it. Rafael rolled onto his side, resting his chin against Sonny's shoulder. Sonny knew he was shaking with the force of holding back something shameful, knew that Rafael could feel the shakes running through his body.

"Shh," Rafael said, placing a light hand on his belly before sliding it around his waist to bring him in close. "Just go to sleep, Sonny," he said, trying to help but somehow making it worse with gentleness.

They were quiet for a few moments, highlighting the shuddering breaths Sonny took that sounded deafening in the quiet of the room. He felt taken apart, betrayed by his own body. He'd settle for waking up upset tomorrow in exchange for this only being a dream, but the warmth of Rafael beside him grounded him unpleasantly in reality. He knew his cheeks were wet, and so hot he wondered briefly if it were possible to make them boil tears off of them.

"I'm bad," Sonny whispered, voice sounding pitifully broken to his ears.

Rafael ran his hand soothingly down Sonny's side, returning to his waist once it had completed its path. "Maybe you won't be quite so bad in the morning," he teased kindly, rubbing his cheek against Sonny's shoulder. "We'll find out. Just go to sleep."

Sonny shuddered for a few more moments, allowing Rafael to resume petting him, trying to calm his breathing. His hand was still making gentle strokes down Sonny's body once he finally, mercifully slowed his breath enough to drift off to sleep.

-

When he awoke the next morning, Sonny was surprised to find the sun streaming in from the opposite direction it did in his own apartment, and he fluttered his eyelids open to find himself on his side, staring at an unfamiliar wall. There was a warm press against him, an arm around his waist with someone's nose against the back of his head, buried in his hair. He had a headache, though not as terrible as usual, and he dimly remembered Rafael taking care of him the night before. He made a mental note to feel grateful later when the unfamiliarity of waking up here had lessened.

 He realized he had moved slightly in the process of waking up, and he could now feel Rafael stirring behind him. Sonny swallowed, and it sounded louder than he'd intended. Rafael held him more tightly around the waist. It seemed a foreign sensation, particularly this early in the morning, though not unwelcome. Sonny tried to relax into the embrace, tried not to wonder what it meant.

 After a few moments, he could feel Rafael mouthing at the side of his neck, hot and teasing. Sonny caught himself mildly surprised to find that it felt good even when alcohol had finally seemed to evaporate from his body overnight. He gave a contented little sigh, even through his nerves, trying not to squirm to try and get more contact - some, any.

 "Can I?" Rafael asked, kissing an inch or so up to his ear, voice husky and slow with sleep. "Would you let me, like this?"

 It was like tumbling down a hill, flipping without brakes or an obstruction to slow him, and Sonny found himself fearful of what would happen if he never landed. He nodded quickly, finding his voice enough at the end to whisper, "please." He was still so tired, pliant here on his side but waking up and hungry. His eyes were closed as Rafael continued to kiss his neck, sliding his hand underneath the hem of Sonny's shirt to splay across his stomach. He could feel Rafael hard against his back, morning erection showing no signs of flagging as he came awake. He knew he was hard himself, could feel his cock thick in his boxers.

 "Good boy," Rafael said, nipping his earlobe. His hand slid further up underneath the shirt, gently pinching at Sonny's left nipple. The movements were slow, gentle, and Sonny felt hot and boneless here against Rafael, allowing himself to be kissed. The hand at his chest slid down now, further down to cup the bulge of his erection through the thin fabric of his boxers. Sonny let out a soft, low breath, trying not to rub desperately against Rafael's hand in hopes of getting friction. He would wait for what was offered to him, knowing that right now was not the time to demand to be allowed to set the pace.

 Rafael's thumb was making lazy circles around the bulge in Sonny's underwear, finding the head of his cock and concentrating the circles there when he heard Sonny's quick intake of breath. "I wanted this," Rafael whispered, nuzzling against his neck. It felt terrifyingly intimate. Sonny never wanted it to stop. It didn't have to, he acknowledged, if he could stop being so goddamn stupid for once.

 "Me too," Sonny admitted, rocking his hips backward as though seeking confirmation that Rafael was hard just for him, stiff and wanting from the feel of waking up with Sonny beside him. Rafael made a soft growling sound, tiptoeing his fingers up to the waistband of Sonny's underwear before slipping down inside to curl around the hot length of Sonny's skin. Without wasting time, Rafael gave Sonny a series of slow, loose strokes, drawing a low moan out of him. Sonny turned, burying his face halfway in the plump, thick pillow with his eyes closed.

 Rafael's hand was moving faster now, and Sonny could feel his lips moving against his ear even though he couldn't make out the words. He could feel his own body trembling, halfway between flinching from the gravity of being touched by Rafael like this with nothing to dull this sensation of how it felt to have another man's hand on him, and the pleasure of being held by someone who cared, who didn't expect him to hide what he felt he needed to. It felt both frightening and safe, a conundrum that he didn't mind tolerating in the early hours of the day. He'd woken up in worse ways.

 His legs were parted slightly, and he could feel Rafael's cock pressing into the dip of his ass that was only slightly accessible through the flimsy fabric, and he felt a lump of desire in his throat at the memory of being so filled by the other man. Sonny offered a soft, reedy noise, feeling Rafael's thumb pass through the slight slick that was beading at the tip of his cock. "Oh, _god_ ," he whimpered, worrying he might never be able to fully catch his breath again. It was a level of vulnerability he'd never expected to have to face here, curled against Rafael, sober and in a bed that wasn't his own.

 "What do you want?" Rafael asked lowly, not ceasing in his strokes even with his mouth against Sonny's ear. "I'll give you anything you want, Sonny. You know I will."

 And there were so many things, Sonny thought almost desperately, so many things he'd throw onto the table, greedy and hoping for all of them to be returned in spades. "I want you inside of me," he said, throwing out what he wanted the most before he could stop himself. It had been so long, and he'd spent weeks guiltily pining for it. Nothing had been a suitable substitute for the way it felt to have Rafael moving so tenderly inside of him, never too rough.

 Rafael gave a soft, assenting noise against his ear, stopping his strokes just long enough to ease off Sonny's underwear. "Yeah?" he asked, taking Sonny's hand and leading it down between his legs, wordlessly instructing him to touch himself. He complied and felt Rafael lean away, divesting himself of his own pajamas, completely naked as he returned with a small bottle of something slick. "Take your shirt off for me," he whispered, rubbing his hands over the bared curve of Sonny's ass.

 Sonny moved as hastily as his tired, heavy limbs would allow, setting the now unneeded shirt off to the side. Rafael was so warm against his back, insistent and unyielding and so welcome.

 "Want to open you up first," Rafael told him, still gently letting his fingers trail over the skin of Sonny's backside. "I'm assuming it's been a while."

 "It's just you," Sonny whispered, sure the dryness of his mouth could be heard in his voice. "It's only ever been just you." Rafael removed one hand to slick his fingers, blankets now kicked down around their feet, and he continued to palm the cheek of Sonny's ass with the unoccupied hand. "I - I tried to do this to myself since the last time. It wasn't - I couldn't - "

 He could feel Rafael make deep noise of pleasure at the image. "How'd you do it?"

 There was a cool press of a fingertip at his entrance now, wet and welcome, and then it was pressing past the ring of muscle into his body. Sonny willed himself to relax, to allow the finger inside of him, remembering how welcome it would be the deeper it got into his body. "I got on all fours in my bed." Rafael made an appreciative sound, moving the finger deeper with a frustrating slowness.

 "Then what?"

 "I - I spread my legs open and reached between them." His voice was uncertain, tentative. His cheeks flushed with an excited flare of embarrassment. "Then I pushed my finger inside like you're doing to me right now."

 Rafael moaned softly, relishing in the idea of Sonny trying to imitate what Rafael had given him even when he was alone in his bed, even when he was hurt and angry and isolating, unable to forget the feel. His finger was almost fully seated inside of Sonny now, and he could hear Sonny whimper when his knuckle slightly grazed his prostate.

 "And how was it?" he asked, teasingly circling his finger inside of Sonny but just barely avoiding where he really wanted to be touched deep inside. "Be honest with me and I'll reward you."

 Sonny gave a frustrated whine, trying to hold his hips still, trying to be good and not as insistent as he would like if he gave himself permission to fully give in. Rafael could see him battling with himself as to just how honest he wanted to be; it was written all over his face. "I couldn't get deep enough," he confessed, now verging on humiliated but delighted in the hot shame of the admission. "It's - it's better with you."

 His mouth was hot on Sonny's neck, now gently sinking his teeth in only enough to give a dull prickle of sensation there as opposed to any actual pain. "Nobody gets to make you feel this way," he agreed, pulling out just enough to ease another finger inside of Sonny. Sonny moaned quietly, throat practically closed for a moment with the force of his desire. He was resting his weight heavily on one hip, trying as hard as he could in this position to keep himself open and accessible enough for Rafael's fingers to work him open. Rafael's fingers crooked inside of him, finally focusing on the spot deep there that made him cry out, knotting his fingers in the expensive sheets.

 Despite his efforts to control himself, Sonny pressed back to where Rafael's fingers were buried in him. " _Please_ ," he gasped desperately, "Rafael, please, I want you so bad." He felt impossibly hot all over, a slight sheen of sweat on his back now where Rafael's chest pressed against his back. He knew his legs were spread as wantonly as possible in this position, hand returning to play with his cock even though Rafael had not instructed him to do so. He could come like this, frantically jerking himself off with Rafael's fingers screwed inside of him, but his breath came in abrupt, needy gasps when he thought about the hot press of Rafael's cock inside of him.

 Rafael smiled against Sonny's shoulder, pulling his fingers free and placing that hand on Sonny's shoulder. "Turn over," he instructed, helping Sonny roll onto his opposite side to survey Sonny's face. "Like this," he said, but it was also clear that he was asking for permission, wanting their eyes to meet but cautious in broaching the subject, as though afraid to scare Sonny away in the quiet, sober daylight of the room.

 "Yes," Sonny agreed, opening his legs, trying helplessly to find a position this way that would allow Rafael inside of him. Rafael laughed softly, helping to guide Sonny's legs splayed around Rafael's waist, slightly awkward but just right for the angle. Sonny stroked his cock as Rafael rolled the condom on himself along with extra lube to ease the way. "Want you inside me, please."

 There was no hesitation the way Rafael lined the blunt head of his cock up with the pucker of Sonny's hole, but he paused briefly before pushing inside to brush a stray, rumpled lock of hair off of Sonny's forehead. Sonny had a cowlick that never cooperated with him without the aid of some rather insistent styling product he was fastidious about picking up cheaply, and it always seemed to escape overnight even when he went to bed without washing his hair. Rafael placed a gentle kiss to his forehead as he pressed his cock into Sonny's hole.

 It had been several months since Sonny had had something inside of him, or at least more than that cautious fingertip he'd tried a few weeks ago, and his body initially tried to fight off the breech into him. Sonny took several deep breaths, trying to relax. Rafael linked their fingers together, taking Sonny's cock in their joined hands and resuming his slow, patient strokes.

 "If you let me in, I'll make you feel so good," he teased, easily correcting Sonny's pace when he tried to speed up their strokes. "You're so tight." Sonny's eyes closed and he gulped.

 "Talk to me," he pleaded, legs shaking on either side of Rafael's waist.

 Rafael lightly kissed his forehead again. "Such a good boy," he whispered, swiping his thumb through the stickiness of Sonny's precome. "I'm so lucky you let me have this." Some of the tension melted from Sonny's body, and Rafael took advantage, pushing in fully. Sonny could feel the press of Rafael's balls flush against his body, and he gasped, thrusting his hips backwards, greedy, trying to get more of the sensation. "That's it," Rafael encouraged, voice dark and thick.

 The air seemed to have left Sonny's lungs with little left in the room to replace it, and he sputtered for a few seconds to try and compose himself. Rafael eased out an inch or two before pressing back into him. Rafael gave a few more slower thrusts, letting Sonny get used to the sensation, and shifted his hips to lean their faces closer together.

 "Is this okay?" Rafael asked, quickening the movement of his hips.

 "Yeah," Sonny gasped, locking his ankle around Rafael's hip to try and coax him further, harder inside. "Feels so good - I missed this." He was leaning forward now, kissing Rafael hungrily on the mouth even though neither had brushed their teeth yet. It typically made Sonny flinch to think of how his mouth tasted in the morning, particularly after a night of drinking, but Rafael licked in with abandon, softly groaning against Sonny's lips.

 "Did you think about this?" Rafael asked, nipping at his bottom lip, pushing deeper due to their adjusted angle. "Did you think about me fucking you?"

 Sonny moaned as though in assent, but soon found his voice to answer. "Fuck - yes - thought about you all the time," he pressed out, voice broken in time with Rafael's hard thrusts. "Thought all the time about how you feel inside me, thought about the way your fingers feel - god, Rafael, please - "

 Rafael groaned, kissing him again and moving his lips down Sonny's throat, sucking a bruise where it'd be visible at least for a day or two, but would likely have mercifully faded enough not to raise any eyebrows when it was time to go back to work bright and early Monday morning. He rubbed one thumb over the kiss-swollen curve of Sonny's bottom lip, kissing the underside of his jaw, the front of his throat, anywhere he could reach. "It could be like this every time," he whispered against Sonny's skin, the faint scratch of light-colored stubble, and Sonny didn't respond except to quicken the flight of their hands over his hard cock.

 "Please, please," Sonny whimpered, not knowing what he was begging for, only that he felt tied in knots and so close to coming undone. "This is what I wanted, please Rafael - "

 "Shh," Rafael soothed, kissing him gently, sharing his oxygen. Sonny's toes were curling, pinched white due to the tension. Rafael's thrusts were quick and deep, so deep Sonny wondered if there was any space left inside. His head lolled back, puffing out a few hot gasps for air before Rafael tilted his face back down to claim him in a bruising kiss. "You going to be good and let me make you come?" As if there were any other choice Sonny would dream of making.

 Sonny let out a shaky breath. "Fuck - please, I'll do anything," he stammered, wriggling back desperately onto Rafael's length. "I'm so close." His hand was beginning to tremble, losing sureness in his grip and so thankful he had Rafael's to anchor him, to keep the quick, assured pace. Rafael would take care of him, make sure he felt good.

 "Me too," Rafael agreed, thrusts now erratic, less controlled than Sonny would've ever imagined watching him in the streets, in the courtroom, steady on his feet when he'd corralled Sonny to be put to bed as Sonny swayed drunkenly on his feet on more than one occasion. "You feel so fucking good." He kissed Sonny again, stroking his forehead where a few strands of sweaty hair stuck.

 "Rafael - " Sonny tried, but before he could finish whatever he might have been trying to say if he were capable of coherent thought, he let out a ragged cry and came, spilling himself all over their bellies, hands and his own chest. Rafael's mouth was immediately crushed against his, swallowing up whatever he may have tried to add to his cry, and his hips snapped hard now, almost enough to hurt if his head and body weren't swimming with the unexpected force of his orgasm.

 Rafael continued to play with Sonny's slowly softening cock, dragging a few oversensitive moans from Sonny's mouth but relishing in the mess he'd left on their bodies. It took only a mere handful of thrusts before Rafael sank his teeth into the skin stretched across Sonny's collarbone, leaving another splotched bruise there.

 They fought to catch their breaths, still locked together, sharing heat and space until Rafael had softened enough to be uncomfortable. He slipped out of Sonny's body, making Sonny whimper at the loss and shift in his position. Rafael smiled fondly to himself, taking a fleeting second to marvel and trace a finger around the stretched, still-wet rim of Sonny's hole. Sonny took a shuddering breath, adjusting his hips but not moving to escape the touch.

 Rafael slipped the barest hint of two fingertips inside of Sonny, not insistent but captivated by the way that Sonny sighed happily, shifting backward slightly to enjoy the feel, despite how sore Rafael imagined he must be in the afterglow. Sonny's eyes were closed, but his face looked beatific in the haze of his orgasm and the pleasant feel of Rafael teasing him, circling where he was stretched and reddened.

 "You're amazing," Rafael exhaled, changing their position slightly so he could hold Sonny to him, kissing his temple while gently stroking the outside of his rim. "Wish I could get you wound up enough to make you come again this way."

 Sonny laughed sleepily, chasing Rafael's hand away and letting his legs fall back together. "I'm not as young as I used to be," he said, fondly, comfortably, more normal than he'd felt in months. "You'd have to give me an hour or so."

 "Don't tempt me," Rafael told him, only half-joking. The idea of keeping Sonny pinned, sore, begging for his fingers sent a jolt through him, hot and persistent. They laid together, quiet and cooling for a moment before Rafael rolled away, returning after moments with a wet cloth, as fine as the sheets. He liked to tidy up after sex, not quite fussy - just particular, he'd argue. He cleaned their come away, kissing Sonny gently and periodically in the process, especially when he made soft noises of almost-protest as Rafael brushed against the parts of him that were still oversensitive.

 Rafael laid out on his back, weaving his fingers together with Sonny's, and they rested in an amenable silence.

 "I don't know what this is," Sonny admitted after several long minutes, pliable and honest with an orgasm under his belt. "I don't - this isn't something I ever expected to deal with." It was as forthcoming as he'd ever been without anger hanging over him during the conversation. He paused to consider the sparse statements he'd made thus far, not knowing how to proceed even if he wanted to. He closed his mouth again.

 As the silence stretched on, Rafael rolled himself onto one hip, drawing one finger down through the dusting of hair in the center of Sonny's chest, kissing one of his pectorals. "Don't sort your whole identity out in one morning on my account, Carisi - you haven't even had breakfast yet," he said wryly. Sonny gave a sleepy smile, one that could almost be described as _dopey_ , he realized to his chagrin. Rafael took contented breath through his nose. "I just - it could be like this sometimes," he said, patient and practiced to betray the nervousness he inexplicably felt wash over him. Rafael was not often a nervous man, but this was territory he'd long since forgotten the particulars of.

 Sonny was quiet, but his arm was wrapped around Rafael's shoulder, and he pulled him closer, headache long forgotten but returning slightly, maybe due to the threat of having _feelings or some shit_ to sort through. "It could," he agreed, unsure what else to say.

 Rafael laid with him a few more moments, knowing the conversation had likely reached its stopping point for the day - hopefully a pause for later, he thought optimistically. Progress, maybe. "Breakfast sounded good, though," he said, sitting up. Sonny cracked open an eye and smiled. The sun was shining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update! These two were stubborn, as usual. 
> 
> Title of this chapter is from Spoon - Inside Out.  
> I'm predicted at least a couple more parts of this before wrapping up; thanks as always for your feedback and kind words!


	7. vii. i'll be your sinner in secret when the lights go out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are few things in life that aren't improved by a very good breakfast.

Sonny stood, surveying the contents of Rafael's kitchen cupboards with dismay. There were at least two types of overpriced flours - almond and coconut, _what the fuck_ \- some nearly-empty instant oat canisters, and little else to speak of. His brow was furrowed. The state of the refrigerator was similarly abject, and Sonny wondered just how much time Rafael spent eating forkfuls of carryout as he pored over legal briefs, or casually relaxing in restaurants Sonny couldn't dream of affording outside of when he was trying to impress someone maybe once a calendar year.

 Rafael was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and Sonny suddenly felt no desire to venture out to fight with hungover bachelorette parties or bougie couples to get a spot in a brunch restaurant. Going out to brunch with another man was not the final frontier he was looking to conquer today, although he admitted that the unfamiliar territory of waking up beside Rafael had been welcome - wonderful, even.

 He could hear the water tap switch off in the other room, and Rafael joined him shortly. He was still dressed in his pajamas, and Sonny marveled about how they still looked pressed, if not quite immaculate.

 "I'd rather make breakfast," Sonny said, feeling silly at his insistence on something akin to domesticity. Rafael leaned back against the countertop, surveying him with a fond smile.

 "I'd hate to see what you'd come up with for breakfast with what I have on hand," he said wryly, calling upon himself before Sonny could remark on the sparse contents of his kitchen. He had made no effort to physically invade Sonny's space, despite what had transpired in the bedroom shortly beforehand. Sonny couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up on a Saturday without the urge or necessity to vomit, let alone to eat breakfast, but his stomach was beginning to growl in anticipation.

 Sonny offered a smile, sleepy but glad. "I thought I'd go get some things." It would be nice to step out and get some fresh air, to take several minutes to relax from the smoldering heat they'd built up in Rafael's impossibly large bed, on his impossibly fine sheets. It would be nice to have a moment to sift through the thoughts in his head that swam together, overwhelming but not repulsing him in the struggle.

 There was a brief pause, and Rafael raised an eyebrow at him - skeptical but without malice. "This isn't you sneaking out, is it?" he asked, almost hopeful but certainly preparing for the worst.

 "No - what? No," Sonny sputtered, feeling cornered. The thought hadn't even occurred to him, let alone been considered enough to cause him to feel guilty for the intention of escape. "I just don't want to have to experiment with your snobby flours," he countered, trying to maintain the illusion of being relaxed this morning. He'd woken up in the apartments of girlfriends, of women he was seeing, even of women he'd slept with and never seen again, and had never felt as scrutinized as he did this morning.

 "Pity I can't get you to care about your health," Rafael said, almost chiding.

 Sonny was pulling on his dress pants, and as few discarded parts of yesterday's suit as he could manage to get away with. They smelled like a dive bar, and he winced briefly, making a mental note to stop by his apartment to put on something not so starched and stuffy. Sonny hated suits but shrugged them on each morning as a necessary, frustrating evil - buy the suits to do the job, do the job to buy the suits.

 After he'd shrugged on enough piecemeal wardrobe items to look presentable in public without wrapping himself in ties or vests or anything unnecessarily smothering for a Saturday morning, he turned back to face Rafael. "That would be too big a job for one person," he said, teasing and light but sad in the context of the rest of his rather particular habits.

 As though unable to stop himself - and not wanting to stop himself, to his own surprise - he stepped toward Rafael, entering his personal space and not finding himself unwelcome. Sonny leaned in and kissed him softly on his lips, a brief, lingering second before pulling away. Rafael appeared unruffled, only glad. It all felt so alien.

 "I'll be right back in a bit," Sonny said, a promise he could keep, though it did bewilder him slightly to realize how eager he found himself to return. Rafael lightly cupped his chin, stroking the curve of his jaw before gently pulling him in enough for another kiss. He didn't speak but gave a small smile. For all his inexplicable kindness toward Sonny - even when he was drunk and borderline-combative or morose as a result - Sonny found himself marveling over just how pliable and almost sweet ( _Jesus Christ, Sonny, are you a sixteen year old girl?_ ) he was in the thin streams of morning light that came in through the window.

 -

Sonny returned with two paper bags. He'd remembered, of course, to stop by his apartment to change into jeans, a plaid flannel shirt, and his tennis shoes. It was both more casual and relaxed than Rafael would've seen him in the workplace, but more composed than when he'd sprawled bonelessly and sodden with drink on the couch in pajamas. Normal - the word he'd wanted to be more familiar in his mouth these days, but surprising when it felt applicable to a situation now, particularly this one.

 When he returned, the door was unlocked, catching Sonny off-guard. He supposed Rafael's apartment would be less susceptible to someone frightening or malicious breaking or walking in as his own would be, but he still raised an eyebrow at a lifelong New Yorker leaving the door unlocked - consideration for him outweighing the risk of being ambushed.

 Rafael was in his bathrobe - white and plush in a way that Sonny never would've trusted himself with in his own home, prone to spills - still toweling off his wet hair. There were two cups of coffee on the countertop, both of them still black and steaming in that same impossible consideration.

 "You weren't lying," Rafael mused, voice light, relaxed.

 "I don't lie," Sonny protested, unpacking the ingredients for pancakes, all of which had been missing from Rafael's bare kitchen.

 The statement was enough to earn a subtle eyeroll from Rafael. "I'm a prosecuting attorney, Sonny - sniffing out lies is my second language." Sonny should've offered some kind of counter protest of his own, but thought better of it, as he could see why Rafael could have almost-safely assumed he was fleeing. Instead he busied himself by digging out mixing bowls and a couple of skillet pans - overpriced, certainly, and clearly rarely touched, let alone used. It would be hypocritical to tease Rafael for the lack of attention he'd clearly paid to his kitchen. Sonny could barely force himself to eat sometimes. His microwave had gotten a lot of mileage lately.

 He turned his attention to the mixing bowl and all the ingredients, humming to himself for a few split seconds before remembering he was not alone in the room. Rafael was quiet at the kitchen table, busying himself with a few files that didn't necessarily require his attention until Monday. Normal. It felt good.

 A few more minutes passed, and he found himself in the comfortable routine of making an easy dish. It had always been a way for Sonny to get out of his head, turning his attention to something simple his ma had taught him in a time that was also simple, a time that he'd taken for granted with his assumption that the world, the job would never catch up with him. He poured out perfectly round, uniformly sized dollops of pancake batter onto one of the pans, feeling satisfied with the way that they sizzled upon first tough to the heat of the surface.

 "How do you like your eggs?" Sonny called over his shoulder, but after he'd asked he could sense Rafael's presence behind him, up from the table and the tedium of documents that shouldn't invade a weekend at home with no plans. His posture stiffened with expectation, and he found himself easing back into the relaxed curvature of his spine as Rafael circled his arms around Sonny's waist. The suddenly silly question about the eggs went unanswered and was quickly forgotten.

 Sonny swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing nervously, excitedly; he could feel Rafael's lips brush against the back of his neck before breaking the contact, almost as though he'd imagined the short-lived feel of it.

 "Is it all right if I touch you like this?" Rafael asked, back to his familiar old pattern of tentatively asking for consent, long since forgotten since the first few times they'd slept together. It was one thing to learn what a drunk person liked and found comfortable; it was as though finding Sonny sober and clear-headed in the morning had upended the rules of the game.

 "Don't make me burn them," Sonny warned, letting his free hand rest on the top of Rafael's where it sat on the plain of his belly as nonverbal assent. He flipped the four pancakes he'd poured so far, impressed with himself and the golden brown bottoms that were now faced up. Rafael kissed the side of his neck as he went to work on scrambling eggs. He'd wondered if he'd need to pretend in the back of his mind this entire time that he was cooking for a girlfriend to make the morning after feel less scary, but the scratch of Rafael's weekend stubble was unmistakable and delicious against his neck.

 "Certainly not," Rafael agreed. "I had no idea you were so domesticated, Carisi," he said fondly.

 Sonny gave a humble shrug. "I know a few things," he said, almost sheepish. The eggs were rapidly taking shape, fluffy and light, and he rustled around in the bag of shredded cheese he'd brought home, sprinkling some over them before returning to stir them.

 "Then I ought to consider myself lucky right now, I suppose." Sonny was distantly aware that Rafael was still dressed in his bathrobe, and he quietly considered the thrill he'd get from finding him with nothing underneath before busying himself with splashing a generous smattering of Tabasco into the eggs. Allowing himself the pleasure of indulging a split-second fantasy this early and this sober in the morning felt downright indulgent, particularly when it included the rasp of stubble that still slid across the sensitive skin of his neck each time Rafael peppered a delicate kiss there, or to the shell of his ear.

 As though only now observing that Sonny was in the process of finishing breakfast, Rafael left his back and went to find two plates and silverware, cabinets looking like a Crate and Barrel had thrown up in them. Sonny made a bit of a show of plating his handiwork, turning off the stovetop and abandoning the dirty pans on the stove. You could certainly remove a bachelor from his natural habitat, but it didn't change his natural, learned behaviors.

 Rafael was already sitting at the kitchen table, having cleared away his borderline-intimidating stack of papers aside for now, and was pouring small, practiced spirals of maple syrup over the tops of the large pancakes. He then turned his attention to sprinkling hearty portions of black pepper on the eggs even though Sonny had tried to be liberal with the hot sauce. He took the first forkful of eggs into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Sonny couldn't remember anyone ever looking so interested in a mouth full of scrambled eggs.

 "Very good," he said, and Sonny could tell he meant it. His chest swelled with pride. For his part, Sonny had slathered his pancakes with an abundance of spreadable not-quite-butter, and was now soaking them in maple syrup. Rafael made a face at the messy spread in front of his counterpart, but proceeded onto cutting his own pancakes without commentary. He smiled. "I can't remember the last time I ate pancakes."

 Sonny was cutting his pancakes into big, wet triangles, savoring the morning rush of sweetness he could never deny himself, even when running late to the precinct in the morning. "I'd probably peg you as one of those thirty dollar eggs Benedict guys," he predicted, and relished in the dismissive snort Rafael gave him.

 "It's the most important meal of the day; it ought to be an investment," he mused thoughtfully, eyes shining, and Sonny could feel a pleasurable knot building in the pit of his stomach, a tangle of affection. Waking up with a clear head had its upsides, though his fingers slightly itched at the notion that a mimosa or three would be the icing on the cake of a good, overdue breakfast. He chased the thought away as he chewed another bite of eggs, eating in an amenable silence. It was as though he'd waited months until now to acknowledge that he still got ravenously hungry once in a while, like when he'd tried to play football in high school for a dismal, grueling season and came home and devoured half of his ma's fridge every night for dinner after practice.

 When he'd handily disposed of all of his eggs and turned his attention to the now soggy pancakes - the way he'd preferred them since childhood, and it made him smile to see that some things never quite changed despite the larger context of life these days - he suddenly felt an itch to speak and cleared his throat as though to buy a second or two before jumping in with both feet.

 "So…" Sonny began in what he hoped was a casual start. "Any plans today?"

 Rafael looked up from his coffee, facial expression both unfazed and unreadable. Sonny felt a beating of nerves rush through him, the likes of which he hadn't seen since he asked out his chemistry lab partner sophomore year of high school - it hadn't gone well ( _thanks for the years of fear of girls, Anna Barrett_ ) and he felt him similarly anxious. "I suppose that depends on why you're asking," he said, patting at the corner of his mouth with a square-folded paper towel to blot away an escaped bead of syrup.

 Sonny blinked at him expectantly, pushing one of the triangles of pancake across his place, partly to soak up more of the butter that had melted off and over the side, and partly to appear nonplussed. "I was just asking," he said, voice slightly smaller and less assured than it had when he'd initially thought it was worth asking.

 If he'd noticed the shrink in Sonny's voice, he made no effort to remark on it. "If you're asking to be friendly, I'd say 'not much,' because it's the truth, but if you're asking with intention of seeing if I'd want to spend time with you today, I'd say 'that sounds excellent,' because it's also the truth," he said, eye contact directed toward his eggs, achieving the casualness that Sonny had attempted but presumably failed at. Outside of work, he had always been woefully transparent, almost as though he'd been born without any semblance of a poker face.

 "I was - it was both," Sonny admitted, wondering where this honestly without the aid of liquid courage had suddenly come from. He looked up from his nearly empty plate, eye contact now honest and open, his lips quirked up in a small, sheepish smile. "I just - " He found himself unsure what to say, wondering if it could go unsaid that he wanted to make amends for weeks, months of being a drunken phone call away when it was an unpleasant, frustrating affair each time when the spell broke.

 "In that case, that sounds acceptable," Rafael conceded, merging the two responses into one that felt perfectly, distantly warm. He couldn't hide a smile in Sonny's direction, affectionately smug. "Did you have anything in mind?"

 Sonny shook his head. "I hadn't thought that far ahead," he said truthfully. "I wasn't sure you'd say yes; I know that I haven't exactly been…" He searched for words that might do justice to the mess he'd created that hadn't faded, and might not outside of today. If nothing else, it might be a bit of vacation for his liver and comfort for his mind. Sonny fell silent, unsure how to proceed, and instead took his last bite of pancake.

 "You've been greedy and borderline unlikable at times," Rafael said delicately, and it felt like a deliberate understatement designed to at least make him squirm in his seat a bit. "I suppose you owe me a day of sobriety to do what I want. Maybe a day to show you what you've missed out on by soaking yourself in vodka," he added, and the words were suggestive, blessedly without the leer to match. Rafael was then on his feet, ushering away their empty plates to the sink.

 "I don't drink vodka that often," Sonny offered up, hoping to simultaneously ease the heat of the moment and to defend his own honor a bit. Rafael returned to the table with a smile, not responding to the pitiful defense except to stroke the clean, unstyled strands of Sonny's hair for a brief, fleeting second.

 Rafael now let his fingers wander fully through the hair at the crown of Sonny's head, and he enjoyed the feel of being petted across his scalp. "Excuse me," Rafael said, voice low and still tired. "I forgot you were a connoisseur of fine domestic beers." Sonny's eyes fluttered closed and he allowed himself to relax into the chaste touch, and he wondered if he could fall asleep strictly from this. He then allowed himself to be guided to the couch, and Rafael settled in, stretched on his back and inviting Sonny to lie against him, back between his legs even though he hadn't made any effort to dress beyond pulling his bathrobe around him after his shower. It was still damp but not bothersome.

 "We can just rest," Sonny offered up for the moment, eyes still closed as Rafael resumed stroking the thoroughly graying hair at his temples. He suddenly felt very tired and heavy at once. "It would be nice to rest." And it certainly would, would certainly be a surprising source of delight to eke out some time to sleep without dreams. It had been so long since he'd come awake in the night without gasping for breath at least once, though it was so commonplace that he couldn't remember if it had happened last night. He distantly remembered crying his eyes out before falling asleep, pitiful and guilty, and it made him flush momentarily before he considered that Rafael still wanted him here - small miracles.

 "Yes," Rafael agreed, voice sounding faraway in its need for sleep but body so warm and present against him. "Just rest, Sonny."

 It was simultaneously surreal and wonderful, more than Sonny could've hoped to still deserve. He gave a sleepy, huffing breath before shifting against Rafael, turning his head to the side and falling asleep after a few slipping moments of Rafael continuing to play with his hair.

 -

He awoke with a start, though not as jerky and dramatic as he typically noticed when waking alone from a nightmare. Sonny wasn't even entirely sure he'd had a nightmare, pausing to consider that his body had a way of waking him up after a certain amount of sleep just to spite him by depriving him of rest. When he came awake, Rafael was still behind him, now with the television on and some British baking show he'd never seen before on, though Rafael seemed fixated, still relaxed.

 When he'd startled awake, he could feel that Rafael's fingers had resumed sliding in his hair, still as comforting as they had been as he drifted off to sleep. His lips were dry from where his mouth had presumably been open for an extended period of time, and the inside of his mouth felt scratchy.

 "There he is," Rafael said warmly. Sonny blinked around the room hoping for some indicator of what time it was. His phone was nowhere to be found conveniently, and Rafael didn't seem to have a clock he could find easily enough to consult. He flexed his feet, trying to stretch without clambering all over Rafael in the process. Rafael's eyes had left the baking show and were now fixed on him. Rafael's face was upside down to him from where Sonny laid on his back, and it was disorienting for a few seconds as his mind struggled to adjust from sleep.

 "I'm sorry - how long was I asleep?"

 Rafael gave a soft laugh, now rubbing Sonny's shoulders in circles with his thumbs. "It's four now, almost five," he said, checking his watch for a split second, and Sonny now realized he was fully dressed in jeans of his own - a foreign sight to Sonny - with the bathrobe nowhere to be found.  

 The report startled Sonny almost as much as waking up itself had. "I - that's impossible," he sputtered out, remembering it had still been late morning when they'd stretched out on the couch, though he knew it was likely true. "I'm sorry I was such bad company," he said, manners his ma had taught him sneaking in through the veil of sleep that he was still fighting his way out of. "Didn't mean to hold ya hostage." He rolled slightly onto one side, having been fast asleep on his bed for so many hours.

 Someone was frustrated with the process of making a sponge cake on the TV, and he directed his attention to it momentarily before rolling over onto his opposite side to rest his head against Rafael's belly, tilting it back to meet his eyes this way.

 "You seemed exhausted, and so fast asleep that I could sneak out from under you - even though you were heavy," Rafael told him, kind and explaining why he was somehow fully dressed now. "I know you're not exactly a great sleeper these days," he added, clearly trying to remain delicate in his commentary. "It would've been a shame to wake you."

 "I guess we've both earned a lazy Saturday," Sonny said, bashful to his own ears. He was terribly comfortable when he lay, one hand draped over Rafael's denim clad thigh. Sonny was still wearing his own shoes, and he blanched when he realized it, wondering if Rafael was the type to fuss over someone having shoes on his couch - his ma certainly was, and even as a grown man he typically kicked them off before setting foot near any one of them. He self-consciously toed them off, hearing them land unceremoniously off to one side on the floor.

 "You were a little restless, but this is probably what I'd be doing today anyway," Rafael confessed, and it amused Sonny to think of what he did on a Saturday without obligation, to think of the indulgences he allowed himself without divulging to the rest of the world. In a way, Sonny could see where it was a delightful little privilege - nice to have a secret between the two of them that didn't involve the extent of Sonny's drinking or the sweet, desperate noises he made with three fingers inside of him. "If I'd be doing it anyway, there's worse things to add to the equation than someone handsome spread out on top of me." The compliment made Sonny flush, unaccustomed to registering it without a haze of alcohol to soften the edges.

 "Do you still want me to stay?" Sonny asked, trying to keep the hopeful edge he knew would seep out and betray him at bay, worried he'd overstayed his welcome by now. Rafael chuckled and stretched his own legs a little. Rafael leaned forward, an almost dignified hunch in contrast to the practiced straightness of his posture otherwise, and kissed the crown of Sonny's head as his only response. There was something intimate about the kiss, even though it was far from his own lips and an area Rafael didn't tend to kiss on him when they met up - an intimacy that made Sonny blush for a moment when he remembered he didn't typically wake up reclined against another man and savoring it too much to want to move away.

 "I'd like that," Rafael said, simply, without necessity for further explanation. "But since you've kept me essentially pinned since the morning, I'm on the verge of starving to death." Sonny gave him a tired, grateful smile. Rafael slithered out from underneath him with a grace Sonny doubted he could've managed himself. He returned from his kitchen with a couple of rumpled takeout menus he'd no doubt retrieved from one of the drawers. One of the Chinese menus had a dark coffee cup ring on it - maybe Rafael's favorite. Rafael set beside him, leaving Sonny to lie on his back on the couch.

 "They got apps for that now," Sonny said, his usually-lacking regard for proper grammar entirely by the wayside as he continued slow, plodding progress through the stages of waking up.

 Rafael rolled his eyes good naturedly and rifled through the stack, bypassing the raggedy Chinese food menu for a low-budget looking pizza menu. "Only good calzones in Manhattan, and certainly too small to warrant an app," he sniffed, almost aloof, though not unkind. Sonny smiled and stretched his arms up, trying to loosen up the parts of his back that had gotten too molded to sleeping on the couch.

 The wait was long enough to be dark by the time the calzones arrived, and Sonny was beginning to find his nerves brewing again as he considered that he had no idea how Rafael would want to proceed with the rest of the night. He wasn't sure if there was an expectation that he'd stay another night, especially one without a belly full of tequila to convince him that it was a flawless plan. He assumed Rafael was skirting around alcohol tonight, though he'd seen a bottle of wine or two on the kitchen counter when he was making pancakes in the morning. It wasn't that he minded avoiding drinking tonight, however unfamiliar it felt this days. He wanted to please; he wanted to be what Rafael would want tonight without heed to his own comfort, and it terrified him.

 If Rafael was aware of his trepidation, he made no move to acknowledge it and instead remained focused on the baking show that still played on Netflix, which Sonny could admit had become oddly engrossing. He was used to celebrity chefs screaming curses at sweating contestants, not kindly older women praising the most perfect ladyfingers they'd ever seen. It was soothing and completely unfamiliar. He had taken his calzone out of the box and put it on a plate, and cut it into neat, small squares. Sonny watched in an odd sense of fascination, not quite surprised that Rafael could make even a greasy pocket of cheese and meat look practiced and almost elegant.

 "You're welcome to stay the night," Rafael said off-handedly, and Sonny was relieved that the offer was extended without him even having to ask. It was probably charitable of Rafael, knowing that Sonny was struggling to figure out how to ask and sweeping in to save him the embarrassment of stammering through it. "If you'd like to, I mean."

 Sonny turned to give him an almost-feeble smile of gratitude. "I appreciate you asking. I want to. I wasn't sure you'd want me to," he admitted. He was alarmed at how easy it was compared to the way he'd built it up in his head. There was now a glob of marinara sauce of his chin, and Rafael smiled, motioning for him to wipe it away. He complied and turned back to his sloppily-cut calzone, trying to wrestle his way through the thick crust and feeling like a rather disappointing Italian.

 They ate in a pleasant, gentle silence, neither of them finishing their dinner and packaging what was leftover away in the fridge at the end. Rafael settled back on the sofa, motioning to Sonny to join him. Sonny took advantage of his own courage, wondering if it would be fleeting, and leaned against him, resting his head on Rafael's shoulder.

 "Don't fall asleep on me again," Rafael warned. "It was hard to keep pushing you off to get to the bathroom."

 "No promises," Sonny mused, focusing back on the maddeningly calm discussion of ladyfingers and trifles.

 Another episode passed, and Sonny laughed easily at Rafael's fussy commentary on technique for desserts he could never make himself. The whole day had been comforting, so much slower than the days he spent pounding the pavement and the nights he spent pounding tallboys of beer before they could even try to warm up. He was unexpectedly okay with slower in this moment.

 The credits rolled on an episode about cannolis, one which Sonny had found especially compelling as he remembered his grandmother making them look so effortless in the quiet, sunny space of her kitchen. Rafael reached over and turned the TV off without further hesitation, before the opening credits of the next episode could start.

 "I didn't think you'd let me have a day like this," Rafael said, plainspoken as ever. He seemed more comfortable now, not hesitant on what to say as he was when Sonny had tied one or two or three or four on before inviting him over. It felt as though Rafael had shifted back into his practiced certainty, maybe because of being in his own territory, or maybe because he'd learned from early on that tiptoeing against someone with alcohol in their veins kept hurt of any kind from coming. The thought of it made guilt wash over Sonny.

 "I didn't think I could," Sonny told him, honest and feeling raw all over. "I really don't - I don't know what this is. I still don't." He was trying not to sound hopeless, unsure if he was managing.

 Rafael regarded him with something gentle, smiling without showing his teeth. "I'm not expecting you to profess anything to the world, to commit to anything, any of that." There didn't seem to be any reluctance in the statement, in a way that would almost be arrangement-based if it wasn't loaded with a history of messiness and emotion. "We're adults. I'm all right being a person you sleep with for now, as long as it doesn't come with the implication that you'll have to have to knock a few back to get the nerve for it."

 "Sure," Sonny said, finding that agreeing wasn't too frightening. It appeared to be a simple enough answer for Rafael - Sonny knew he appreciated brevity coupled with candor whenever possible. He cleared his throat briefly, angling his body toward Rafael's. "Do you want me tonight?" he asked, afraid he was being greedy as usual and trying to remove the expectancy he worried was rolling off of him in waves.

 "Of course," Rafael answered, a smile creasing his features.

 "I'll give you whatever you want," Sonny said, wanting to return to Rafael what he'd always promised to give Sonny without hesitation.

 Rafael rose to his feet, looking down at Sonny as though he'd won a spectacular prize. Sonny joined him on his own feet, wanting to be obedient and accommodating. Rafael ushered him into the bedroom, happy to abandon the easy, affable comforts of the living room. He gently motioned for Sonny to strip out of his clothes. Sonny unbuttoned each of the buttons of his shirtfront, trying to stop his hands from shaking. Rafael's eyes raked over each exposed inch of him, soaking it all in as he was finally naked.

 He shivered, feeling exposed and appraised, bizarrely excited to be the sole focus of Rafael's scrutiny. It didn't occur to Sonny to be intimidated by Rafael's eye for detail, suddenly feeling flushed all over. Rafael turned on the bedside lamp, a pleasant light washing over the room. Sonny felt even more laid bare with the lights on, nervous like it was his first time all over again.

 "I want to see you touch yourself," Rafael instructed, gently nudging him down to sit on the bed. The blush on his cheeks deepened, and he knew that the new source of light meant that Rafael could probably see it splashed all across him. "Don't be afraid," he added, and if it didn't come at such necessary times, Sonny would be irritated by how easy it seemed it was for Rafael to read his mind when insecurities came in through the cracks. "You're going to look so hot."

 Sonny took a deep breath and leaned back against the covers. Rafael must have also sneaked in to make the bed at some point, precise and crisp in its folds. Someone had taught him well. He had started to harden as soon as they moved into the bedroom, hardened even more as Rafael had seemed to examine each bared bit of him, and now he found himself ready to be touched as he laid here on his back.

 Rafael simply stood at the foot of the bed, watching as Sonny closed his hand around his own cock. He offered up a little sigh at the welcome feel of his hand, practiced and familiar as he began to stroke himself. His eyes drifted shut, finding it easier to know Rafael was watching him if he couldn't make eye contact with him while being so forward with the way he touched himself. His breath hitched a little in his throat, trying not to appear too greedy.

 Sonny could hear a rustling of cloth, and opened his eyes again to find Rafael in the process of pulling his shirt over his head, but making no effort to move to take his pants off. Sonny swallowed, relishing in the exposure of Rafael's chest, now fully bare of his shirt and dusted in thick, coarse hair across his chest and arms. His eyes were trained on Sonny, specifically on the way he sped up his strokes in the excitement of seeing Rafael's skin. Sonny could tell he was preening under the attention Sonny was paying him, even here from the flat of his back with his hand making jerky strokes of his hard cock.

 "Do you like looking at me?" Rafael asked, voice gone low and dark.

 "Y-yes," Sonny stuttered, not slowing whatsoever in his strokes - quickening them, in fact. Heat was spilling through him, welcome and exhilarating, knowing he was being watched and appreciated.

 "Tell me."

 The command made Sonny take in one sharp gasp for air, lifting his shoulders briefly as a new shock of arousal hit him in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "Fuck - Rafael - you look so fucking hot," he panted, reaching one hand down to roll his balls in time with his strokes. From down here on his back he could see the way Rafael was hard in his pants, and he wished Rafael would give him permission to touch him, to pull him down on top of himself. "I missed you - I missed getting to see you," he said, unable to stop himself from talking now as he pumped his cock with an almost panicked sense of urgency. "I remembered it but - oh, _god_ \- but you look so good right now. It's even better."

 Still, Rafael made no move to shed his remaining clothing, just running a hand down his own torso to brush his fingers teasingly over the bulge in his own pants. "And what else did you think about?" he asked. His tone was still even - frustratingly so - and Sonny wished he could hurry along to make Rafael catch up to him and fall apart.

 Sonny's mind had run away from him, leaving him inarticulate and with no filter. He was spreading his legs now, unsure of the purpose but hoping to look more than open and willing, ready to be taken whenever Rafael so chose. "I thought about you holding me down, using me," he choked out before he could stop himself. "You were so angry before - I thought about you tying me up, making me not fight." He could tell he was red all over now, never dreaming he'd be able to breathe a word of that particular desire to anyone, let alone the object of it.

 Rafael let out a quick, deep, possessive noise, no longer content simply to tease himself as he watched, and moving to strip himself in haste. He joined Sonny on the bed, naked now, straddling his thighs to watch Sonny jerk himself off from a new vantage point. His skin was hot against Sonny's, both of them slick with a slight sheen of sweat. The room felt roughly a thousand degrees at the moment, and Sonny gasped to try and get some air into his lungs.

 "Was that what you thought about when you tried to fuck yourself with your fingers?" he growled, seemingly towering over Sonny. His own cock was hard against Sonny's thigh, leaking a little bit already. "Me taking you like that?"

 Not quite trusting himself to speak, Sonny choked out a soft, clipped _yeah_ and nodded his head in time. Rafael pressed his hips up slightly, rubbing their cocks against each other even as Sonny continued to roughly pump his erection. Sonny couldn't have stopped touching himself even if he wanted to, far gone now from spilling out his deepest secret, what he had dreamed about and come to thoughts of more times than he cared to admit to.

 "You're so amazing," Rafael whispered, ghosting the pad of his thumb around Sonny's throat, pushing in a mere millimeter, stealing Sonny's breath for a split second, and reminding him just how submissive Rafael might be able to make him. "You're so greedy for it, and you only let me bring it out of you." His own breath was coming in big, needy huffs, and Sonny marveled at how the admission had seemed to unravel Rafael, even if it was only partly.

 "Just you," Sonny agreed, finding his voice enough for a handful of words. His hips were jerking seemingly of their own accord, and he could feel a hot release building dangerously in his belly. "Please, Rafael - I don't want to come yet but - Jesus, I'm so fucking close - "

 Rafael leaned in close to him while reaching behind him, where he brushed the tips of two dry fingers across Sonny's hole, where it was ever so slightly exposed by the way Sonny had positioned his hips trying to get more attention there. He kissed Sonny hard on the mouth, stealing one of the big gasps Sonny took for air to use for his own breath. "Not tonight, but soon - I'm going to give you what you've been thinking of - that itch you can't seem to scratch," he promised, chasing Sonny's hand away from his cock, even though it made him huff in frustration.

 "I'll be so good for you," Sonny offered up, tone pleading. Rafael was reaching into the bedside table, scrutinizing Sonny's face for any sign of resistance. "I'll do anything you say."

 "You will," Rafael agreed, sending an unbearably hot jolt down Sonny's spine with the vow. He had produced a condom and a small bottle of lube, and if Sonny could find his voice, he'd tease him about being presumptuous. Rafael knew him too well - it wasn't like Sonny to refuse the promise of Rafael inside of him. "Want this?" he asked, laying the condom and lube beside them on the bed without further elaboration.

 Sonny clutched at the tanned skin of Rafael's ass, taking a greedy handful to ground himself, to bring himself back to earth to avoid coming prematurely. "God - _yes_ , please - " he whispered, voice hoarse.

 Rafael's fingers were slick when they reached his hole, not quite warm enough, but a welcome push for two to work inside of him. He supposed his body was too on edge and close to orgasm to register what might've otherwise felt like pain with little preparation, but he arched off the bed and then pressed back down to get them further with a frantic gasp. Rafael pushed his hip down to steady him back against the bed, working the two fingers quick and sloppily in and out of him, brushing against Sonny's prostate on every other stroke.

 He knew he was making garbled, nonsensical noises that would be indecipherable to most, but not to Rafael, who knew every frantic movement of his hips, every sputtered gasp, every searching expression of his face as he pleaded for release. His cock was leaking all over him where it laid against his stomach, and a distantly rational part of his brain was awed by just how much response Rafael was able to coax from him even before he came.

 "You ready for me to fuck you?" Rafael asked, having somehow sneaked his free hand away to roll the condom on - a small miracle Sonny knew he'd never have been able to achieve himself.

 "Yes - please, hurry up," Sonny said, too desperate now to worry about politeness.

 Rafael smiled, leaning over him so their faces were close together, helping Sonny to hoist up his legs in the process. Sonny was silently thankful for the shift, the day they'd somehow chosen to do this face to face; he loved the way Rafael swallowed the almost embarrassing sounds he made when he was close, the way he sometimes let out something akin to sobs as he came. The honest part of his brain loved the way that Rafael looked at him when Sonny made him feel good - worthy, adored.

 "Brat," Rafael teased gently, kissing him tenderly to balance out the slight bite of his words. The head of his cock was positioned at Sonny's entrance, pausing infuriatingly for a few brief seconds before he pushed in.

 It seemed to knock the wind from both of their lungs, and it was only when Rafael was fully seated inside of him that either of them were able to take a breath. If he had more presence of mind, Sonny would've laughed at how it felt like a parody of romance, of _love making_ or some other corny shit that people said, but here now, he trembled all over, trying to gather enough breath to encourage Rafael to proceed.

 Their lips pressed back together, uncaring that oxygen still seemed to be in short supply, and Sonny could feel Rafael growl against his mouth, desperate to move inside of Sonny. Sonny winced, still sore from the activities of the early morning, but uncaring and wanting more. It was a pleasant, burning ache that made him flush with delight in having earned the right to have Rafael inside of him twice in one day.

 "Tight," Rafael gritted out, seemingly only capable of a word at a time for right now. Sonny made a hum of agreement, knowing it was the truth from the way he felt stretched, challenged in the effort to fit Rafael deep in him.

 For once, Sonny found himself as the talkative one. "I've never felt this way before - _god_ , yes - " he exhaled in a rush, wrapping his ankle around Rafael's backside and pulling him in tight against him, trying to offer the encouragement to make Rafael thrust inside of him. "You - you're the only one I want this with - I - " They were half formed thoughts, but certainly enough for Rafael, if the growl against his throat were evidence enough.

 Rafael leaned away only enough to pull out a little before thrusting back in. Sonny gave a startled noise, feeling soreness barrel through him where he was stretched to fit. Rafael gave him a wordless, apologetic look and leaned back down to soothe him with a gentle kiss. His mouth was tender, even with his tongue working into the wet space of Sonny's mouth, and his thrusts lessened in force enough to match, to draw out the soft keening noises he'd grown to love from Sonny.

 "You're so gorgeous," Rafael whispered, breaking their lips apart only long enough to offer the praise and pressing his mouth back to Sonny's to cut off any kind of bashful protest he might offer in return. Sonny spread his legs wider, whimpering in response, trying to coax Rafael in deeper. Rafael complied, thrusting in what felt further than ever before. He reached between their bodies, taking hold of Sonny's now-neglected cock.

 His mouth seemed to be fastened to Sonny's, stealing the desperate cries and sobs that Sonny offered as Rafael stroked him, pulling out and pushing back in deep in time with the pumping. Sonny shook all over, feeling thoroughly claimed. Rafael braced himself with one hand, directing Sonny's hands up and over his head. He pinned them down as best as he could with one sure hand, knowing Sonny wouldn't have the presence of mind or inclination to fight his way out of them. Sonny gave a desperate, broken moan against his mouth, and Rafael shuddered momentarily at his ability to make good and tease a promise he'd fulfill later if allowed.

 Instead of pulling away to give a husky command for Sonny to come, Rafael merely tightened his grasp on Sonny's cock, forceful and harder than typical but not unwelcome in the least. Sonny could barely breathe, hands shaking with the force of staying still and pinned above his head despite the electric pulse racing through his body without ceasing now. He gave a sharp, strangled cry against Rafael's mouth, coming so hard he could've sworn he lost his vision for a moment. Rafael followed him shortly thereafter, his grip on Sonny's wrists immediately loosening beyond his control.

 Sonny took several shuddering breaths, his thighs trembling, unable to still them. "I - god, I - " he stammered, simultaneously unable to catch his breath or to form a coherent thought.

 Rafael pulled out of him but made no further effort to move, just draping himself over Sonny's body. He paid no mind to the way that Sonny's come smeared messily between their bellies, even though messes typically gnawed at his nerves enough that he took great pains to correct them immediately.

 "Yeah," Rafael whispered, similarly losing his vocabulary. Instead, he resumed kissing Sonny - gentle, without urgency now. He slid one hand down Sonny's side, letting his hand still to circle the pad of his thumb around the point of Sonny's hipbone. Even the chaste, unassuming touch was enough to made Sonny shiver harder, and Rafael made an apologetic noise against Sonny's lips as he pulled his hand away.

 "It's different now, isn't it?" Sonny asked, as cautiously as he could manage through the haze that seemed to have swirled into his skull and replaced his brain.

 "I suppose so," Rafael said, knowing it was an understatement but not caring to wrestle his way through an explanation he hadn't put his finger on just yet. Different could be an improvement, he supposed, especially since he didn't have to pretend not to taste whiskey on Sonny's tongue - cheap whiskey, of course, that he had pretended didn't bother him.

 Despite his multiple-hour nap earlier in the day, Sonny was tired and rapidly fading in the dark hours of the evening. He was docile here, splayed out on his back, still open and wet, with his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Once Rafael had managed to pull himself away to clean himself off and get into his pajamas, he returned and cleaned Sonny without moving him. He helped slide Sonny's boxers back up his legs, tucking him safely away with the knowledge that his apartment tended to get uncomfortably cold some nights.

 Sonny made a soft noise of thanks, stretching out an arm to Rafael, inviting him to lie down. It seemed early in the night to go to bed, but it would've been a shame not to join Sonny when he was like this; he looked happy and young in ways Rafael hadn't seen, could imagine in Sonny when he was fresh out of the police academy and so eager to prove himself to whatever and whoever the world would send his way. The thought made Rafael feel sad, and he pushed it aside as he laid down.

 "Good night," Sonny whispered softly, leaning against Rafael, immediately allowing himself to be held.

 It was a sharp contrast to the night before, the one where Sonny had wept, ashamed and beyond his own control of his emotions.

 Sonny was affable, almost cheerful in the precinct. He seemed to rarely let anyone into the space where they could see how drained and almost fragile things had gotten below the surface. Sonny had been a source of ire for Rafael for months, under his skin and unshakable despite how many nights the stink of booze had conjured up thoughts of loss he pushed down and down for so long he'd forgotten just how long it'd been done out of necessity.

 Beside him, Sonny already slept soundly, his kiss-bruised lips parted and probably soon to drool against Rafael's bare shoulder. Rafael had never seen him so at peace, at least not with his badge and gun set aside somewhere.

 Newness was welcome, and long overdue, if he was being frank, and he hoped it stayed around for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - damn you, real life! Fortunately, these two value a good breakfast and a lazy Saturday as much as I do, and as much as everyone should - at least a break from angst?
> 
> Title of this chapter is from Carly Rae Jepsen - Run Away With Me, which is an actual jam and everyone should love it.  
> Thank you all as always for your kind words and feedback; it's such a great encouragement to continue and I'm certainly grateful!


	8. viii. i'm just an animal looking for a home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A photo finish victory, and a wish fulfilled. 
> 
> A WARNING: there are longer mentions of canon-typical violence and sexual assault in this chapter than there have been in previous chapters, just as a heads up. Heed the new tags, if this type of thing is not your cup of tea.

After the weekend, things had not evolved into a whirlwind romance - much to Sonny's admitted relief - but they had settled into a routine that, dare he say it, felt comfortable. Sonny still spent numerous, if too many, evenings throughout the week and month comfortably alone on the couch with more than a few cans of cheap domestic beer and Mets training camp games now that the weather had warmed.

 But sometimes, from across a room of bustling detectives and hostile defense attorneys, Rafael would give him a knowing look that somehow spoke volumes: _be prepared not to drink tonight_. Even without words, it was something he couldn't argue with, knowing the implication.

 A lucky side effect to Sonny's sometimes-begrudging but always compliant response was that their working relationship had softened into something civil once more, and Sonny could often see the relief splashed across Amanda's face. They were waiting in line for coffee one morning on what would certainly be a long day in court when she shot him a sidelong glance and cocked her head to one side.

 "Nice to know at least someone takes my advice," she mused thoughtfully, turning her attention back to a glass dome with a variety of scones arranged pretentiously beneath it. "Cranberry almond or cinnamon chip?" she asked, slipping back into her usual casual ease without hesitation. It caught him off guard, but to his credit, he didn't flounder, trying to appear focused on the heap of muffins stacked beside them, trying to determine which variety seemed to be dusted in the largest amount of coarse granulated sugar.

 "Cranberry almond, for sure," he said, not meeting her eyes. "I don't recall asking for your advice on baked goods yet."

 Amanda gave him a smile, deceptively sweet, and leaned away from the scone display. "It was more of a case of old advice about social graces," she said. The barista motioned for her next in line, and she fired off an overly complicated coffee order - extra hot this, low fat that, throw in something sugar free - "and a cinnamon chip scone, please," she added, making Sonny roll his eyes in the direction of the back of her head, knowing he should've expected nothing less.

 After she'd paid, Sonny advanced in line with his own order: black coffee and a raspberry Danish - the more sugar, the better. He stood beside her in the small space reserved for those waiting for their drinks. "I also don't recall asking for any advice on social graces," he said, looking down at his watch before finally meeting her eyes. "I'm a very graceful person."

 She smiled, looking up from where she'd been in the middle of texting Jesse's babysitter promising to be home earlier than last night, and Sonny hoped for her sake that it was true. "It just seems like you and Barba aren't quite at each other's throats as much," she said, and for a moment Sonny could've sworn she was studying him for some flicker of noteworthy reaction, but he didn't budge.

 Sonny gave a noncommittal shrug. "Maybe he woke up on the right side of the bed one day and decided to stop being a dick," he offered as a faux hypothesis, knowing the statement applied much more to him than to Rafael. "Or maybe I'm just wonderful."

 "Doubtful," Amanda said, tone sly and light, and Sonny secretly counted himself lucky that they'd developed an easy friendship rather than tumbling into bed together when he'd been drunk and stupid and honestly lonesome down in West Virginia. "Either way, my Tylenol budget and I thank you for whatever the hell happened," she remarked, stealing away to pick up her coffee and scone.

 Sonny also counted himself lucky that Amanda was never one to be nosy and press him for details, much the opposite of his ma and gaggle of sisters. A week before, Bella had spent half of the pre-dinner drinks hour in his pop's garage grilling him about why _you don't look quite as much like hell tonight, Sonny - who is she?_ without taking a _Christ, none of your business_ in return. Telling a Carisi woman that something was none of her business was like sprinkling drops of blood in close proximity of a shark: at that point, you were just asking for a response you didn't want.

 The walk to the courthouse was less brisk than normal, and Sonny was grateful to Amanda for harassing him via text first thing in the morning to make sure he met her with enough time to stop for coffee on the way to court. He took a few seconds to consciously enjoy the spring air that was beginning to warm enough to be tolerable when he was forced to be outside this early. There was a throng of reporters already camped out on the steps, seemingly waiting to pounce on anyone who looked guilty of a crime, or guilty of intending to defend or prosecute that person. They seemed to perk up when he and Amanda walked closer, only to deflate in disappointment when they didn't look litigious enough to be splashed across a newspaper.

 Amanda had already gone inside to meet up with Lieu, and for a moment, Sonny stood on the steps licking particles of glazed sugar from his thumb and forefinger before he heard a bustle of activity and a building crescendo of shouts of the media in the direction of the sidewalk: Rafael Barba had arrived with his face firmly set. It wasn't every day he got the privilege (or, rather, the opposite) of prosecuting a celebrity, and Sonny knew he had come with a singular focus to bury Allen Rodgers on the stand. Sonny jostled his coffee, trying to look busy with his phone but only succeeding in dropping it unceremoniously on the marble terrace of the stairs.

 He stooped to pick it up, making a sharp sound of disapproval when he saw a tiny hairline crack in the top corner of the screen. It wasn't the first time he'd shattered a phone screen - hazard of his extracurricular activities, unfortunately, but infuriating every time. When he stood, Rafael was passing by him, dismissive of the yells of LMZ employees looking for a soundbyte. They exchanged a look, and Rafael nodded once, with a short, proper utterance of "Carisi," before he was gone inside. It was laughably formal, but a necessary evil.

 Sonny stood on the courthouse steps, stomach and face oddly hot with a laughable thrill of being noticed even on a stressful day. He stood for a few moments, floundering for those seconds, caught off guard by a muscle memory of something akin to the butterflies he'd felt when the bookish class president would pass him smiling in high school, all blonde hair and denim skirts and freckles. He'd always liked the ambitious type.

 There was little for him to do after he and Amanda had offered their testimonies about the circumstances of the investigation and arrest of Allen Rodgers, straight-laced celebrity chef to the stars, who'd degraded and assaulted countless women before finally pushing too far and throttling the life out one of his PAs. It was one of those pitiful defenses that Sonny had heard a million times - _she asked for it rough, things got out of hand_ \- the kind of thin excuses that always made him quick to roll his eyes. Sonny wondered if Rafael would take special delight in putting Rodgers away just because he'd sullied the good name of his beloved Food Network.

 It had been a while since Sonny had really watched Rafael at work, watched the way he commanded a jury and caused a perp to squirm in his seat while trying and failing to convey an air of innocence. It was hypnotic, and made Sonny marvel over the notion that he might ever be able to compete in the same sphere if he ever passed this goddamn Bar exam. It had been in the back of his mind for longer than he'd care to admit, put on the back burner for when he had the presence of mind to focus on it. He felt guilty, wondering sometimes what he was waiting for, when he would know it was the proverbial right time.

 Of course, this admiration was what had hooked him first when it came to Rafael, captivated him from the first time he saw the esteemed ADA Barba tear holes in half of a Hudson University fraternity - Jesus Christ, half that university was full of rapists, especially those goddamn Greek organizations - hardly a romantic story to tell the grandkids. It was what Sonny had always wanted to be able to do himself, making Rafael an immediate source of envy.

 Somehow that envy had become a slippery slope, making Sonny desperate for a friendship with Barba, if you could call it that. He'd been as surprised as anyone when he'd found his mouth against Rafael's outside of some dingy little bar that Amanda had suggested. He'd been as surprised as anyone with Rafael's knee forced between his thighs, and surprised with himself when he'd instinctively, desperately ground against it. And above all else, he'd certainly been surprised when he slurred and begged for Rafael's fingers inside of him for the first time.

 It seemed both like it had happened all of a sudden and in imperceptible increments, and here he was - unable to blame the sharp, heady buzz of his favorite vice for the way he hungered for Rafael every time.

 Allen Rodgers was certainly squirming now as he watched his network producer spill his guts to Rafael, shedding light on every dirty, secret corner of the way Rodgers would shame every women who had ever dreamed of doing so much as crack an egg on television into getting on their knees or backs for him. It was as though his voice had been pulled from him on a string, unable to be stopped now even if he wanted to. Watching Rafael draw admissions from people was like watching someone paint something beautiful, creating something out of nothing.

  _Why don't you just go ahead and swoon?_ , Sonny chided himself inwardly, trying to snap himself out of such fixated attention.

 The trial took days, some of them Sonny had missed because he couldn't think of a good excuse to be present, but he was present for the closing arguments. They were a thing of beauty. Rafael could make something convoluted and ugly look like a piece of cake, an open and shut thing that no one would've broken a sweat or a back to investigate, although Sonny was close enough to know quite the painful opposite.

 The jury had deliberated a surprisingly long day and a half, and Sonny suspected that Allen Rodgers presented a little too well on the stand - a pillar of his church, someone with remorse for his poor and debauched decisions. Some people were certainly too good to be true.

 When the _guilty_ verdict was read, Rafael's face did not betray any emotion, but Sonny could sense the pride bubbling up in front of him, that powerful almost-arrogance that validated the long hours of work and the tensions that always seemed to rage behind the closed doors of the judge's chambers when no one else was privy to the action. Rodgers was sobbing. The sadistic part of Sonny relished in it. Someone's suffering was always a funny thing to find joyous.

 As Rafael exited the court room, he gave Sonny one of those knowing looks he'd learned so well as of late, and he found himself excited with the way his imagination ran away from him with the various prospects. He had retreated without a word, but as usual, he didn't need one.

 His nerves were on edge as he waited, as though for instruction, but the text came through quicker than he'd worried it might. _Come over around eight. I need you especially sober tonight._ That was both intimidating and thrilling - such strict stipulations had never been set before, at least not in these terms, and Sonny's posture became just slightly more rigid as he considered what might happen later on.

 That night he'd taken special care to look presentable, well taken care of. Sonny surveyed himself in the mirror - still probably too thin and worn, paler than usual due to the fleeting winter. It had never seemed to bother Rafael, so it couldn't be all bad. He ran a hand down his torso, feeling the slight ripple of his ribs through the white skin. Maybe soon he'd find his appetite, find a way to solve how gaunt his mother rightfully accused him of being with frustrating regularity. There were circles under his eyes even though he was sleeping slightly better these days. He felt unbearably self-conscious.

 The walk to Rafael's apartment was warm, almost pleasant, despite the strong winds that almost knocked him off balance into the street. It was nice not to be bogged down with a heavy coat over his suit jacket and dress shirt - layers had never been his friend, even though he was perpetually cold. When he arrived, Rafael buzzed him up with haste. His throat was thick with anticipation in the elevator up, almost so strong that he wondered if he should be afraid of what would meet him there.

 When he arrived at the door, he'd scarcely knocked before Rafael opened the door, greeting him with a slow, hot kiss. 

 "That was really something," Sonny said, voice rough when they broke apart.

 There was a coy smile on Rafael's face as he led Sonny to sit on the couch. "Which part?" he asked, sounding all too pleased with himself. Pride was a good look on him, had him glowing. He looked wonderful, and Sonny wished he could say it without sounding like a hopeless sap. Rafael was playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, but made no move to kiss him again yet.

 "The trial," Sonny said with a teasing, pointed look. "Pretty decent kiss, though."

 It seemed to thrill Rafael as much tonight as ever to win a case so handily, and Sonny wondered if practicing law with high stakes had or would ever get boring to him. It pleased Sonny to see someone do what they seemed made to, and it gave him a sense of optimism that there were still good things in the world, things that could make people happy and fulfilled. His heart felt a size bigger, for once at least, and the cynical part of him that he kept so well hidden mocked him in so small a voice that he managed to drown it out.

 "Someone seems awfully pleased with himself," Sonny added, kissing the corner of Rafael's jaw. Rafael didn't seem to be in the mood for as much banter as usual, maybe tired of clever wordplay he'd exhausted out of professional necessity. He instead turned his head, chasing and successfully catching Sonny's lips. Rafael's kiss was hard and insistent, taking what he knew he'd earned. His fingers were twisted in Sonny's collar, holding him in place to get as much access as he wanted, as if convinced - foolishly, of course - that Sonny might try to escape him.

 Rafael was coaxing him down and onto his back, climbing on top of him and slotting their hips together. Sonny groaned into his mouth, trying to arch up but pressed down upon, still held in place. "I've been thinking about what you wanted," Rafael said, breaking away only enough to speak, the air from the sentence still hot against Sonny's mouth. Sonny felt himself flush all over, spreading from his cheeks down his throat. He still couldn't believe he'd confessed it in the first place - that desire to be held down and used.

 "You have?" he asked, seeking a simple confirmation, trying to keep a shudder from wracking his frame but failing miserably.

 "I haven't done something like that in quite a long time," Rafael said, rubbing his hips against Sonny's as though to seek out proof that the idea was welcome, and finding Sonny hard and wanting through his jeans. "That's why I wanted you nice and sober when you came here tonight - needed to have both of us in our right minds so there's no regret there." Sonny doubted he'd regret anything about such a scenario, one he'd dreamed of pretty much since the beginning, but he felt grateful for the consideration.

 "Fuck yes," Sonny whispered, exhaled out on one low breath, like air being let out of a tire.

 Rafael kissed him again, licking insistently into his mouth. "Figured tonight would be a good opportunity to take what I want." His hands were roaming now underneath the hem of Sonny's shirt, playing briefly over his stomach but not venturing further up his torso. It seemed funny that he would anticipate any resistance, with both of them knowing Sonny was always apt to roll over and show the softest parts of him when prompted in the moment, but it sent a shiver through Sonny nonetheless.

 His hands were knotted in the fabric of Rafael's dress shirt, not removed since the victory in court, even though he'd likely been home for several hours. Sonny knew that Rafael sometimes enjoyed an earned glass of scotch after a case well resolved, but there was no trace of alcohol on his lips and tongue.

 "Have me." Sonny's voice was small, searching out Rafael's lips as soon as the words had left him. He was conscious of just how hard he was against Rafael's thighs, was delighted to feel the pressure of Rafael's erection against his own. He writhed a little, and Rafael spread his legs slightly wider to pin him.

 "Aren't you going to make me fight for it?" Rafael teased, now sucking bruises into the front of Sonny's throat, pushing the shirt collar out of the way, ever-cautious to put them where no one might see. "Isn't that supposed to be part of the game?" Sonny supposed it ought to frighten him, to remind him of tearful statements and lurid confessions from vics and perps alike, but the hot rasp of Rafael's breath had him suddenly aching all over with want. Rafael chased his hands from where the fingers were twisted in the back of his shirt and pinned them at his sides, nipping now at Sonny's collarbone.

 "Please," Sonny breathed, knowing he was close to begging early, knowing that this would be the merest tip of the iceberg.

 Rafael's hands were busy now, free from where they'd been tracing idle patterns underneath Sonny's shirt, and Sonny could feel his teeth brushing against his skin - dangerous, but delightful. "And what should I do with you, then? How did you think this might go?"

 His face was so hot, knowing Rafael would drag his words from him like he'd already done to countless others on the stand. Rafael was an exposer of secrets, and Sonny would be no different. Sonny knew he was flushed, and he wondered if it might go all the way down to his toes if he were to be stripped naked now.

 "In - in your bed," he stammered, a starting point he felt he could trust himself with. " - with my hands tied over my head." Sonny couldn't believe this was within his reach, so close he could reach out and touch it after months and months since the idea had first popped into his head and begun following him like a shadow. Rafael continued circling his hips so their cocks could rub together, rumpling his own dress pants without caring that they'd have to go to the dry cleaner post haste. Sonny let out a broken, low moan at the sensation, and it made a knowing smile spread across Rafael's face in response.

 "Should I make you beg me for it?" he asked, nibbling at Sonny's neck. Sonny's breath was coming in humid gulps now, unable to find enough steadiness in his voice that would allow a suitable response. Rafael gave a mirthless chuckle. "From the looks of it, I don't really need to yet." His lips found Sonny's again, kissing him breathless.

 To his dismay, Rafael rolled gracefully off of him to get to his feet, and Sonny made a disappointed sound from the back of his throat, trying desperately to catch his breath. Rafael stood expectantly over Sonny, giving him a few seconds to lie like a fish gasping on a dry riverbed. He felt laid out for the taking, even before he'd be spread out in the bed left to Rafael's whims. He wondered if it might hurt, if his bindings would bite into his tethered wrists, and above all else, the idea of not knowing excited him even more.

 Rafael stood expectantly for a few moments before extending a hand to Sonny, helping him to his feet. He laced their fingers together and led Sonny into the bedroom, making no further effort to touch him yet. When they had reached the bedroom, Rafael again turned on the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over the room. His face was firmly set, certainly authoritative.

 "Take off your clothes," he instructed, and his voice was low and husky - the promise of the evening seeming to affect him just as much as Sonny so far. "I want to see you." For a moment Sonny puzzled over the statement, remembering how he'd looked at himself with an ungenerous eye when he was preparing to come over, the way he felt he looked underfed and almost gray.

 As though by instinct, however, his fingers began picking open the buttons down his shirt front, before it was soon hanging open. He wondered if he ought to make a show of it, but thought better of it and simply stripped his plain white undershirt over his head.

 "Be sure to fold them," Rafael warned, knowing all too well of Sonny's tendency to drop his clothes in soft puddles around the room. Sonny complied, knowing Rafael's eyes were on him as he completed the mundane task of folding the shirts. The work was sloppy, and would've been even if Sonny were in a less heated frame of mind, and he sat them neatly on the low dresser up against one wall.

 Then he moved on to his pants, fumbling to open his belt buckle and the zipper of his pants. For a moment he was unable to remove the belt smoothly from its loops, and he cursed himself for his clumsiness under Rafael's watchful eye. Soon enough he'd slid it out and coiled it as neatly as possible. He toed off his shoes and socks, at least leaving those grouped together on the floor next to Rafael's bed. He slid his pants and underwear down his thighs, leaving him fully exposed when he finally kicked them off.

 Rafael made a soft sound of approval, making no move to touch Sonny yet but looking like he was battling with himself not to. Sonny slid a hand down abdomen to brush against his cock, still standing at attention from their friction on the couch and the feeling of Rafael looking at every inch of his body. He curled his hand around his cock and managed to stroke himself about twice before Rafael interjected.

 "Did I tell you to do that?" he asked, voice steady and dark around the edges. Sonny shook his head, feeling a blush splash across his cheeks. "Stop that." There was no bite to it, only an authoritativeness that made him want to comply immediately. He moved his hand away, a little frustrated at the loss of sensation, but delighting in having his control taken from him.

 Now Rafael did take a step toward him, kissing him again, lips soothing and comforting. If nothing else, this was Rafael - Rafael, who'd had every reason in the past to want to hurt him or abandon him, but hadn't - quite the opposite. Rafael had always handled him tenderly, even when he didn't deserve anything close to no-strings-attached affection and positive regard. His hand was wandering down Sonny's back now, all the way down to give a gentle, fond squeeze to his ass. Sonny made a soft noise of pleasure.

 "I want you to suck my cock," Rafael said, and it had been distant from Sonny's mind, something they hadn't done in ages. He may have been out of practice, but he made a soft sound of agreement, ever-eager to please. Rafael was taking off his own shirt now, hanging it over the back of a chair in the bedroom in an effort not to wrinkle it as much as he had his slacks. Sonny wanted to touch the expanse of tanned skin but resisted, knowing tonight it was up to Rafael to set and maintain the pace.

 He then laid down on the bed, making quick work of the fly of his pants, pulling his cock free of the layers of slacks and underwear but making no effort to undress himself further. He was still in his socks, that part of him looking comfortable despite most of his practiced, formal composure remaining. Rafael's bed was impossibly huge, his apartment big enough to fit it in ways Sonny envied. Sonny came to the bed, kneeling down hesitantly. Rafael gave him an expectant look, giving himself a couple of idle strokes while waiting for Sonny to take a hint that should've been enough to beat him over the head.

 Sonny came down on one hand and his knees, leaning over Rafael and steadying himself with one hand on his hip. He brushed his lips gently across the smooth head of Rafael's cock, giving himself a brief chance to remember what it felt like to have this flesh against his mouth. He let out a warm breath against the head before darting his tongue out, circling the head and dipping ever so slightly into the slit.

 "You seem shy tonight," Rafael said, almost in a gasp. He ran his fingers through Sonny's hair, and it was comforting. Maybe he _was_ feeling shy, suddenly realizing they were shifting into uncharted waters here. He could see Rafael swallow and regroup himself. "If you want me to stop at any point, tell me and I will."

 "I don't want you to," Sonny told him automatically, trying to temper the sharp, almost petulant protest out of his voice. Rafael smiled fondly down at him, still stroking his hair. Sonny opened his mouth again, taking Rafael's cock inside past the warmth of his lips, brushing firmly over it with the wet, rough pad of his tongue. Rafael gave a low moan.

 His hips didn't take long to roll, not hard enough to choke Sonny, but certainly enough to challenge him to keep up with his insistent pace. Sonny could feel himself hard between his legs, cock twitching as he was made to keep up, used in a way that felt electric. He wished he could touch himself, but knew better than to make that mistake again. Instead, Sonny focused on bobbing his head, trying to match Rafael's motions, taking comfort in the idea that Rafael would still enjoy his lack of finesse.

 "You're doing so well for me," Rafael gritted out, and Sonny briefly wondered if he could sense Sonny's eagerness to please, the desperate need to make Rafael happy. "You look so good with your mouth around me." He was stroking Sonny's cheek with two fingers as he thrust gently into the wet warmth of Sonny's mouth, and Sonny preened under the affectionate touch. Sonny looked up at him through his eyelashes, and he could feel Rafael tremble for a split second when their eyes met.

 Sonny could feel Rafael's hips shaking on each stroke, and he slid his hand around from Rafael's hip to gently roll his balls over Sonny's fingertips before progressing on to a light massage. Rafael made no effort to stifle the groan this provoked in him, and it made Sonny proud in a way he found almost silly to know that he had spurred on such an enthusiastic reaction.

 There was something so wonderful about knowing that he was achieving a goal, knowing he'd managed to adapt to something unexpected, that made him feel competent in ways he knew he'd been floundering under for months. He could make Rafael happy as long as he tried - it was what Rafael deserved for all of his patience, the fact that he still allowed space for Sonny in his life. Sonny inwardly shrank from himself with the memory of how he'd treated Rafael for those long winter months - a dirty, drunken sense of shame.

 Sonny had never truly wanted to be with a man, and truthfully, he would never consider it with anyone other than Rafael. As much as he tried to fight it down, he knew he wouldn't want anyone else, knew nobody could fill him with the sense of intoxication Rafael brought from him every time. Truthfully, he hadn't had as much satisfaction in being with a woman since the first time with Rafael; though he still found himself fantasizing about the soft curves and long pretty hair of women, he always seemed to default back to the easy scrape of stubble, the way that Rafael always seemed to know what to do to make him feel good, the way that Rafael felt inside of him. Nothing else seemed to come close these days.

 He could feel spit running from the corners of his mouth and down his chin, drooling with a lack of allure that he was still embarrassed by, and he wondered if his technique would ever catch up to his eagerness. Sonny gently pulled Rafael's balls, kneading him there with the utmost care. He could hear a ragged curse tugged from somewhere deep within Rafael, and Rafael was abruptly nudging him away. Sonny knew from last time not to take this personally, knew that Rafael was close and not ready to come until he'd had more of Sonny.

 "You're so good," Rafael said, almost breathless and clearly on the edge. He hooked his hands underneath Sonny's armpits, dragging him up his body. Sonny wiped his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, self conscious now that they were face to face. He couldn't decipher the look on Rafael's face, but the message was clear when he leaned in to kiss Sonny. His mouth was gentler, softer now that he knew he'd been more aggressive than normal with his thrusts. Sonny knew his mouth was reddened, and a little bit scratched by Rafael's thatch of pubic hair. He already felt claimed.

 Rafael seemed content to be underneath Sonny for a moment or two, and he slid his hands up Sonny's sides to thumb gently at his nipple. Sonny swallowed, his pale throat rippling, and all of the air left his lungs when Rafael pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger - fingers closing and holding tightly. The pain was sharp but not unwelcome, and Sonny gasped as he uselessly humped at Rafael's body beneath him. He offered a garbled plea for more, and it caused Rafael to release his hold on Sonny's nipple.

 "G-god, please - " he panted, his hands on Rafael's shoulders to steady himself. He didn't know what he was begging for, only knowing that it felt thrilling to be hurt slightly like that. Sonny imagined he certainly wouldn't be into being beaten, to being abused when he was tied up and Rafael's mercy - he'd seen porn like that when falling down the rabbit hole of things to spark his imagination in the lonely times he'd fantasized about Rafael like this, and they had made him temporarily balk at the idea of being held down.

 When Rafael's fingers found his other nipple and gave it similar treatment, Rafael knotted his fingers in Sonny's hair, mussing it beyond saving, to drag him down in a possessive kiss. Sonny was whimpering into his mouth, body wanting to fight the sensation of insistent pain, but his mind and belly thrilled by the hot sting racing through him. He was taken aback by the wanton noises he could hear escaping himself, and wondered when he got to be this needy.

 "Does this make you want to touch yourself?" Rafael asked when they had pulled apart. Sonny gave an almost frantic nod, knowing part of him wanted nothing more. Without verbalizing any specific command this time, Rafael took the right hand Sonny was using to balance himself and guided it toward Sonny's cock. The movement momentarily knocked him off kilter, and Rafael steadied him with a patient hand on his hip. Sonny smiled gratefully down at him and began stoking himself. "You know how much I like watching you do this."

 It was true - Sonny certainly did, could see the want spread across Rafael's face when he watched with rapt attention.

 He was slightly leaned forward, and he could feel Rafael slide his hand down his back to knead his ass in the newly allowed space with a growing insistence. Sonny's hand sped up almost immediately, already feeling precome dribbling from his cock and onto Rafael's bared belly. It made him feel slightly embarrassed to see his own immediate reaction, to see such prominent physical proof of the effect this was having on him, but Rafael absentmindedly ran his fingers down his own torso to run one fingertip through the fluid. He gathered it and sank his fingertips into Sonny's mouth.

 Sonny flinched at first to taste himself on Rafael's fingers - it was dirty in a way that he'd never indulged in, though he'd certainly been curious when girls were fussy about the taste. He moaned at the feeling of being used, debauched, and he suckled greedily at Rafael's fingers now.

 "If I didn't know any better, I might think you were a slut," Rafael teased, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Sonny's bottom lip.

 It pulled a sharp laugh from Sonny, almost frenzied and certainly brought on by the feverish feeling that was brewing inside of him. "Maybe just for you," he agreed, happy and sheepish all at once. Rafael leaned up, brushing their lips together as he shifted their positions so he could sit up himself. Their eyes met, and Sonny felt something swelling inside of him, something that was brought on by more than just the way his hand was working his dick. Rafael brushed a stray lock of hair from Sonny's forehead, nipping gently at Sonny's bottom lip.

 "I love the sound of 'just for me,'" Rafael told him, sounding almost earnest now in a way that Sonny hadn't expected. It was a little too close for comfort, but he found himself uncaring for the implication when Rafael kissed him again, tongue sweeping sweetly into his mouth. He whimpered when Rafael's fingers found his nipple again, already reddened and sore but still happy for the attention.

 He was pumping himself in earnest now, toes curling, worried he might spill across Rafael's chest before they'd even progressed to the main attraction. His breath was rattling from him, and from the way their position had adjusted, Rafael's erection was pressed against his ass. The temptation was strong and ever-present. He felt like he was starving.

 "You are so fucking beautiful," Rafael said, rubbing against Sonny's ass as though to convey that Sonny's need was not singular, that he wanted nothing more to sink into the tight heat of Sonny's body. Sonny could feel the rasp of his zipper against his sensitive skin, and it made him almost wince at the hot thrill the movement sent racing through his body.

 "I - no," Sonny objected helplessly, feeling small and undeserving of such enthusiastic attention.

 Rafael chased Sonny's hand away, holding it down against his thigh to make him abstain from wringing an early climax from himself. He tilted Sonny's face to meet his own with one finger underneath his jaw. At first he squirmed under the new scrutiny, but it seemed to evaporate when Rafael lightly pressed their lips together.

 "Don't argue with me," Rafael said, voice caring and amused. "You should know after today that you won't win." It made Sonny laugh again. It felt good to laugh, especially when everything had seemed so somber in the cold. Sonny had counted it as a cliché that things got better when they began to thaw, something that people said to encourage depressed folks that the feeling would fade with the warmth of spring or the gentle taper into fall. The world seemed a little bit easier to face when the cold hadn't seeped into his bones. Maybe things seemed easier since he'd lessened his will to fight this part of himself.

 He hadn't been able to find his voice again yet, and instead sagged a little against Rafael, as though having difficulty supporting himself under the weight of his own arousal.

 "Are you ready?" Rafael asked, knowing that the answer had been a gasped _yes - please_ for months, but still searching for that enthusiastic consent he'd come to savor. It was certainly a necessity, especially in this line of work, but it was always a joy to his ears, the validation he sought from being so thoroughly wanted.

 " _Yes_ ," Sonny hissed, shaking from not being touched by either Rafael or himself, aching with need at the abrupt loss of sensation. "I've wanted this for so long, Raf - please - " And maybe he would be begging, maybe prompted more than he'd like to be, but knowing it would be futile to try to object to the argument that he wanted this more than he remembered ever wanting anything else before.

 Rafael helped him to untangle their legs, to guide him to his back. Rafael fussed over the pillows beneath his head, taking pains to make him as comfortable as possible. Once he'd obtained some sense of satisfaction about Sonny's comfort, he stood back, finally divesting himself from his own pants and socks. Sonny's mouth had gone dry, admiring the way that the warm light washed over each curve of Rafael's body.

 Then Rafael returned to sit on the bed, almost as though there to engage in simple, platonic conversation, but he then slid his hand into Sonny's - a welcome, reassuring presence.

 "Do you trust me, Sonny?"

 "Of course - please - "

 He gave a gentle squeeze to Sonny's hand, glad to see that eagerness but not wanting to throw him into the deep end and expect him to swim.

 "Has anyone ever done this to you before?" Rafael asked, wanting to prod into the particulars of Sonny's sexual history for a moment out of sheer fascination. If he was being vain or possessive, it always excited him to know he was taking Sonny somewhere he had never been before, to show him things he hadn't known he wanted until Rafael had put a name to them, brought them out in the proverbial daylight.

 "No," Sonny admitted, wondering if he would come across as vanilla. Rafael's smile was indulgent, as though he'd been given an unexpected gift. "Never thought about it until - " He stopped himself, perhaps worried he'd let too much out even though the particulars were already on the table.

 Rafael kissed the back of his hand, lips brushing against his knuckles. It was laughably chaste and assured.

 "If you want me to stop at any point, tell me. I'll stop the minute you ask," he promised, knowing that if he pushed too hard, these types of situations could easily get out of hand - they'd both heard enough horror stories to know better. Sonny agreed, and then Rafael was on his feet, retreating into the closet. Sonny could hear him riffling around in the closet, a few clacks of hangers seeming impossibly loud in the content silence of the room.

 When Rafael returned, he had two of his ties in his hands, and he returned to sit on the bed for a moment before moving to straddle Sonny's thighs. He was hard, cock resting against Sonny's white belly. His skin was so hot.

 "Those look expensive," Sonny rasped, trying to sound conversational but having trouble keeping his voice even.

 Rafael made a dismissive noise. "They're out of season," he said, as though this was a sensible reason to sully something that cost more than a week's worth of groceries in the city - a reason which seemed terribly logical and fitting given that it was coming from Rafael Barba. They were mismatch of different paisleys, garish outside of the context of one of Rafael's always-smart suits. There were certain styles that only certain people could pull off - Rafael was certainly one of those people; anything he wore that might have seemed ridiculous on someone else was fine on him, probably because he intimidated anyone who hadn't gotten close enough to know all his soft parts. "Ready?"

 The moment was here, and Sonny shuddered, a little bit of stage fright creeping in, he supposed. "Yes," he said, his voice gone soft and expectant. He could feel his nerves beating underneath his skin, so close to the surface that he could taste them in the back of his throat.

 Rafael gave him two gentle kisses, one to his lips and one to the hollow of his throat.

 Sonny's arms were then coaxed over his head, close to the headboard, and he already felt ten times more exposed than he had, even naked and spread out touching himself for Rafael. Rafael's movement was confident as he wrapped the tie around one of Sonny's wrists, binding it to the headboard. Sonny was already panting, close to being gone. He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out slowly to relax himself. Rafael made quick work of securing his other wrist.

 "Too tight?" Rafael asked, lightly stroking the backside of Sonny's left bicep. Sonny shook his head, shifting his hips, looking for friction - anything to ease the heat pounding through him. Rafael smiled, self-satisfied as ever. He slid his hands down Sonny's torso, shimmying down his body a little so that he had enough access to wrap one hand around Sonny's length. It made Sonny breathe hotly, expelling a soft gasp at the feeling of the tender pressure pulling at his cock. "And what should I do with you?"

 It was like being handed a gift certificate - trade it in for anything you want, no limits. The context made Sonny laugh - they'd both seemed to agree on an unspoken promise that Rafael could do whatever he wanted tonight, that he'd earned it from running circles around a convoluted defense in court. It occurred to him that maybe giving Sonny exactly what he wanted was part of the thrill in all this, maybe the most important part of the whole thing.

 Sonny hadn't realized he was squirming until Rafael gave an easy chuckle, and he noticed he was thrusting desperately into Rafael's grasp. The fact that he couldn't grip Rafael closer toward him by his ass, or scrabble for Rafael's shoulders for purchase added a loss of control that frustrated him deliciously, and he found himself testing his bonds to see what he could get away with.

 "You know what I want," Sonny whispered before realizing it was a cop out.

 Rafael gave him a skeptical, challenging smile. "And how will I know if you don't tell me, do you propose?" he asked, his tone light and wry.

 "You're very smart," Sonny gritted out.

 "It's more fun if I get it right on the first try," Rafael said. His tone was light and almost fun, and it was clear that he was enjoying the position of power as much as Sonny had expected him to.

 He gave Sonny's cock a firmer squeeze than previously, and it predictably made Sonny gasp and arch upward into the tight grasp. Sonny's breath had left him in a force and he sucked another one back in deep, writhing between the mattress beneath him and Rafael's weight above him.

 When he found words, they came out in a strangled rush. "Please - I wanted you to fuck me like this, please, please - " Sonny was definitely begging now, having lost the presence of mind to feel ashamed by it. "I want you to make me take it hard like this, all tied up for you." He couldn't stop himself, and he was shaking all over with the need for it, the need to be used however Rafael saw fit tonight. Rafael had earned it, but Sonny could admit he was selfish enough to take advantage of it as well.

 Rafael smiled, kissing Sonny's neck, not ceasing in his strokes. "Now how difficult was that?" he teased. He let go of Sonny's cock and rolled off of his body. He was rummaging now through his bedside drawer, producing a condom and lube. Sonny shifted expectantly, the excitement of promise now so close and tantalizing. He found himself wondering what it would feel like to have Rafael bare and hot inside of him, without the necessary barrier of latex, but knew this was by far not the right time to consider such a thing. Still, the thought made his throat feel tighter with need.

 Sonny eagerly watched Rafael slicking his fingers, warming them, ever considerate for him. Sonny found himself wondering how they'd gotten here, knowing each others' minutiae, letting each other close enough to see the secret parts, the ones that hurt, the ones that embarrassed them. For his part, Sonny couldn't remember the last time someone had been allowed into his orbit this close. It felt like an eternity. He wondered when it had become acceptable to him, even a little, enough to let another man touch him, kiss him, make him feel like an adored, beautiful thing. Rafael coaxed Sonny's legs high up, the fronts of his thighs resting against his belly, spread wide and ready to be touched inside.

 When two of Rafael's thick, impossibly big fingers eased inside of him, Sonny couldn't hold back a startled, overjoyed gasp, trying to relax into the swift pressure, feeling full as ever. His mouth was ajar, eyes closed, thrown head back, and he could hear himself panting in desperation. When he felt Rafael's fingers moving in and out, scissoring slightly, he whimpered louder, pulling at the ties which were now becoming increasingly rumpled. He felt powerless to move, and he was - thoroughly restrained and claimed. He'd want nothing less.

 He was still struggling, making unintelligible, undignified sounds that sounded wanton to his own ears. "Please, please Rafael - give me another one - "

 He found himself being kissed again, thorough and sloppily, Rafael's tongue pushing into his mouth without pretense. "You make it easy," Rafael whispered, licking hotly into his mouth and making him moan. His third finger was already slick, and he eased the other two slightly out so he could push in with the third. The stretch was almost inconceivable, and Sonny wondered briefly if it was possible for him to take it tonight until Rafael rubbed soothing circles over his perineum.

 The headboard was sturdier than any piece of furniture Sonny had ever seen in a bedroom, probably another testament to Rafael's penchant for fine craftsmanship - or maybe just a taste for aggressively expensive things - but it still seemed to creak with the way that Sonny was jostling his restraints. It felt like he was exploding in quick, tiny successions, and Rafael hadn't even pushed inside of him yet. Fingers were scraping against his prostate now, insistent back and forth movements that drew ragged, sobbing breaths from him. Sonny sometimes wondered if this was going to cause him lifelong respiratory ailments, and he concluded he could not have cared less.

 Sonny's cock was leaking more across his stomach now, glistening in the low lamplight, obscene and fascinating at the same time. Rafael smiled, kissing him dirtily again, stealing the frantic noises he could no longer keep reigned in.

 "I want to fuck you now," Rafael told him, and although it sounded like a request, Sonny knew it was the first and only thing on Rafael's agenda now. "Do you think you're ready for me?" he asked, applying direct pressure to Sonny's prostate and perineum at the same time.

 "Stop - I'm going to come!" Sonny cried, trying to shift away, and Rafael complied immediately. He kissed Sonny, ever doting and earnest, smoothing his hair away from his sweaty forehead. "Oh - please, I want you so bad!" He tried not to pull on the ties yet - they were getting a little tighter in light of the way he was yanking at them, all of his dignity gone - and instead flexed his fingers into tight fists before releasing them and enjoying that stretch.

 He could see the dark, lusty look painted across Rafael's face as he slipped his fingers out of Sonny's hole, slackened and glistening wet with lube. He gave a fond caress to the rim before fully removing his hand, turning his attention to rolling the condom over his cock and slicking his erection. Sonny still wondered how that hot skin would feel with no separation, but soon it was forced out of his mind when Rafael moved into him with one sure stroke.

 It wrestled the air of his lungs, but he could at least decipher that he had gasped Rafael's name in desperation. "Yes - god!" he exclaimed, knowing he was being loud, but unafraid to try and hold it back.

 Perhaps since it was warmer, or perhaps given the possessive turn things had taken tonight, they were both covered in a light sheen of sweat, and Sonny could see it beading on Rafael's forehead. Sonny bit his lip when Rafael pulled out and pushed back in on his first thrust, making him cry out sharply, but he pushed his hips backwards, almost strong enough to force Rafael off balance.

 "You feel amazing," Rafael told him, watching the way Sonny chewed unknowingly at his bottom lip. "You always do." Sonny's thighs were shaking, but Rafael kept them pinned, supporting his calves to hold him open and ease some of the strain. Sonny watched a bead of sweat slide down Rafael's temple to the side of his neck, and he wished he could maneuver enough to lick it away. He wondered in the undistracted part of his mind where these impulses had come from. "All for me."

 His thrusts were hard and unceasing, and Sonny felt for a moment that he could be content to die this way if need be. "Yours - only for you, always," he whimpered, not realizing what he'd said until he saw pleased surprise splash across Rafael's features. Rafael shifted his hips so he could hook Sonny's left knee over his shoulder, leaning in to mash their mouths together without grace. Sonny yelped against his mouth, stifled where their lips joined and eager to be swallowed up. He couldn't find it within him to regret it by any stretch of the imagination, though he wondered if he ought to be at least a little embarrassed by it.

 Rafael made a possessive sound, grasping the back of his neck as a firm presence. He seemed to have sensed that it might be a poor choice to make an effort to stifle Sonny's breath tonight, to exacerbate that his breath was already coming in difficult gasps, but the firm clutch at the nape of his neck was enough to let him know that tonight he was simply owned. Rafael's hips were snapping against him, his balls slapping obscenely, almost pornographically against Sonny's ass. Sonny could hear the noises he was making, although almost faraway to his own ears, and he was thankful that a nicer apartment was better insulated than his own.

 They were kissing again, a desperate clash of teeth and tangle of tongues. Sonny could feel his toes flexing, his hands clenching into fists, as though everything in him was drawing close together once more before relaxing with the force of his impending climax.

 "I'm so close," he gasped, yanking again at the ties, thighs and legs trembling, particularly the knee that was still thrown over Rafael's sweating shoulder. "I - I think I'm going to - "

 "Do it," Rafael spit, a hard command, and Sonny complied with an impossibly loud, almost feral cry. He floundered for several long moments, and Rafael's thrusts slowed to an almost imperceptible series of shifts, wondering what he ought to do and waiting for Sonny's instruction now.

 "I'm - I - " Sonny stammered, but it was abundantly clear that his brain had been reduced, had gone blank.

 "Can I come on you?" Rafael said, breathing in through his nose to try and calm himself. Sonny nodded vigorously, ready for Rafael's come to mingle with his own on his body. He'd come all over himself, messy and sloppy and dirty in ways that made him feel thoroughly debauched. Rafael slid out of him gently, making him whimper at the loss, and adjusted his legs back down to the bed. Sonny was thankful for that shift, exhaling in relief when his leg was returned to rest on the mattress - the hold had been getting sore, a most pleasant ache. Rafael stripped the condom off, letting it drop to the floor bedside, abandoned with an uncharacteristic messiness.

 Rafael was straddling his hips now, Sonny's cock softening a little between the two of them. He didn't seem to be holding back now, frantically pumping his cock. "You're so hot, and you're so good for me," he ground out, his free hand splayed possessively across Sonny's chest, smearing a few beads of come that had made it up there. He traced one of the now-soiled pads of his thumb across Sonny's windpipe, only ratcheting up the feeling of debauchery further. Sonny laid, tilting his head up to leave his throat prone and exposed, the implication submissive and clear: _I'm yours_.

 He could feel Rafael's hips thrusting up into his own grip now, could hear the choked groans rumbling in his throat and turning into low moans when they reached his lips. Sonny still couldn't move his mouth to speak, but made pleading eye contact with Rafael: _I'd do anything for you_. His brain felt hazy, still cloudy with lust that hadn't gone away despite the fact that his orgasm had already been ripped from him.

 It was as though the look on his face was the nail in the coffin, and Rafael gave a guttural snarl, shooting his come onto Sonny's belly and up toward his chest and throat. For several moments he, too, was wordless, still atop Sonny's hips but sagging forward now, leaning down and thoughtlessly smearing their come between their bodies - everywhere, an incurable mess. Rafael didn't care, just kissed gently from the front of Sonny's throat up to his mouth.

 Exhaustion seemed to be the only thing on his mind, and they kissed leisurely, savoring the feeling of lying still and holding each other. After several long minutes, Sonny cleared his throat hesitantly. Rafael picked his head up from where it laid across Sonny's shoulder to find that Sonny's hands were still tied over his head.

 "Jesus, I'm sorry," he said, feeling apologetic immediately. He hoisted himself up, untying the knots with only a little difficulty since they'd been pulled tighter in the act. Sonny's wrists were ringed with a slight, alluring redness, and Rafael made a soft noise of sympathy. He gently massaged Sonny's wrists, hoping to assuage some of the inevitable soreness. Sonny sighed happily, feeling some of the sensation come back to his fingertips.

 "Fuck," Sonny exhaled, inarticulate as ever in the aftermath.

 Rafael rolled over to his bedside, picking up a container of wet wipes he'd put there in the interest of not getting up at all costs. He used them liberally, cleaning their bodies of come and sweat, leaving them feeling clean enough to wait until the morning to shower even if it meant waking up stinking of sweat. He handed Sonny a bottle of water from the bedside table, making him drink it as he came down. Sonny moved enough to pull his boxers back on, hating to sleep naked, and Rafael wrapped him in a fine cashmere throw blanket. He felt cherished.

 "Was that all right?" Rafael asked, sounding uncertain, the one needing validation for once. "Everything you wanted it to be?"

 "And more," Sonny confirmed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on one hand with his elbow crooked. His face was soft, as soft as his insides felt, exposed and raw. He didn't evade Rafael's eye contact as he might normally, and he was impressed with his own imitation of bravado. He didn't need to be afraid right now. He had indulged himself in something which he'd always regarded with crippling embarrassment and survived - flourished, even. Sonny leaned in and tiredly kissed Rafael on the mouth, petting the sweaty locks of hair at the nape of Rafael's neck. He wondered how Rafael never seemed to need a haircut, always looking manicured as ever.

 They kissed this way for several long minutes, in a way that might typically cause them to stir again, but feeling too tired to even move beyond just a pleasant sliding of lips. Sonny's mind was foggy with exhaustion, and when Rafael stretched out on his back, Sonny laid down with his cheek on Rafael's chest, one arm slung around his waist.

 Rafael sighed sleepily, resting his hand on Sonny's shoulder, rubbing gentle, lazy circles with the pad of his thumb. Sonny didn't fall asleep immediately, and Rafael suddenly found himself feeling nervous - an unpleasant sensation he didn't typically experience. Sonny clearly felt him tense a bit, and nuzzled at his chest. Despite the fact that Rafael had just been inside of Sonny, deep within his body and drawing desperate cries from him, this felt somehow more intimate than he'd ever expected.

 "Sonny," Rafael said, and Sonny made a distant noise of acknowledgment, still muddled and having difficulty forming a full, coherent thought.

 There was a long pause of silence, empty and expectant on both their faults. Sonny chuckled, breath hot against Rafael's collarbone. "What?" he asked impatiently, partially assuming that Rafael must have fallen asleep prior to finishing his sentence.

 He'd started something and now found himself feeling obligated to finish it. Rafael cleared his throat, slightly tightening his grip on Sonny's shoulder as if to steel himself. "It's just that - " he cleared his throat again, feeling sluggish in the afterglow. "I think that I could love you, if you'd let me."

 For a moment it seemed to startle Sonny, and Rafael wondered if he'd finally said the terrible thing that would cause Sonny to collect himself and flee before either of them could try to even make a feeble attempt at _talking about feelings_ , but the abrupt flight didn't come, and Rafael wondered if he ought to regard this with a feeling of relief or dread.

 On Sonny's part, he let out a satisfied, sleepy breath, guard perhaps brought down with their previous activities or the way that they held each other together under the warmth of Rafael's comforter and the stupid, snobby throw blanket he'd wrapped around Sonny. He made no move to flinch away and instead nuzzled his cheek against Rafael's chest hair, sliding a hand up to card a few fingers through it.

 "Thank you," he whispered, and the words hung in the amenable silence. Rafael found himself struggling for a response, but to his relief, Sonny appeared to have finally drifted off to sleep as evidenced by a quiet, rumbling snore followed by a series of more.

 Rafael had to laugh to himself at the response - not catastrophic, almost predictable in its oddness. He resumed his light strokes across the expanse of Sonny's shoulders as he tried to drift off himself - it would suffice for now.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is definitely the longest, smuttiest chapter yet, but I genuinely love writing these two. This story has taken on a life of its own, and I'm so glad that all of you have been on board with it so far - your encouragement and kind feedback has been so appreciated and makes my day every time!
> 
> The title of this chapter is from Talking Heads - This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody) - again, one of my favorites.  
> Thank you for reading!


	9. ix. i got my eyes on you; you're everything that i see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honesty may be terrifying, but they say it's the best policy.

It was light outside.

 There were lips moving against his neck, up to the lobe of his ear where it was then gently laved with the rough pad of tongue, and a large, warm hand stroking up his belly beneath his shirt. Sonny offered a soft, sleepy noise of pleasure, stretching his limbs but taking care not to disrupt the general ministrations. The sun was shining through the large windows, bright but not unwelcome. He supposed there was more than one benefit to keeping himself sober some nights, and certainly, waking up to being kissed like this was one of them.

 This morning there was a paradoxically comforting soreness in the muscles of his arms, and he savored the ache where it combined with the pleasurably warm stirring in his groin. Rafael's breath was warm against his ear, his neck, and it made him shiver.

 He remembered what Rafael had said the night before, a sleepy, barely-there statement that had made him pause, unsure how to respond and fading fast from tiredness. Sonny kicked himself slightly on the inside, though he wasn't sure he would respond differently in the morning light. He chose to bat the though away, pushing back against Rafael's body to enjoy the warmth and the solidness of his body.

 If Rafael had similarly agonized over the previous night's statement, he gave no sign of it, and instead continued to stroke Sonny's abdomen with his entire, almost impossibly large hand. "Good morning," he said, his voice sleep-roughened against Sonny's neck.

 "Morning," Sonny breathed, halfway between a yawn and a groan. He rolled over to face Rafael, eyes only a little bleary, curling what he hoped was a sure hand around the curve of Rafael's hip, and kissed tentatively at the hollow of his throat. If he couldn't communicate like a _normal_ person, he could at least show Rafael his affection this way, he hoped. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, still brushing his lips across Rafael's skin, feeling him swallow.

 "Very," Rafael said, letting his fingers run through Sonny's rumpled hair. Sonny was kissing further down now, letting his lips brush against the top of Rafael's chest where his pajama shirt was unbutton, and he marveled lightly about the way even Rafael's pajamas carried an air of refinery Sonny couldn't imagine himself ever pulling off. Sonny's hand mirrored Rafael's earlier action, drifting underneath Rafael's shirt, feeling the hair on his chest and down across his belly.

 Rafael laid one gentle fingertip below Sonny's chin, lifting his head slightly so their eyes could meet. Their lips brushed together, and Sonny found himself easily ignoring the fact that neither of them had brushed their teeth yet.

 "We ought to wait," Rafael murmured, sounding tired. " - especially since neither of us had any kind of coherent thought about showering last night." Leave it to Rafael to find himself distracted from the promise of Sonny's hands and mouth on him in favor of cleaning up in the shower.

 "I respectfully disagree," Sonny said, making no move to stop unless he was ordered to. He picked apart the top button of Rafael's pajama shirt, kissing his way across and down more of the exposed skin, now rubbing at Rafael's hip bones where they were exposed by the way his shirt had ridden up. "Especially since I feel like your reward for ripping the defense to shreds yesterday ended up being more of a reward for me."

 He could see where Rafael's pajama pants were tenting, and it was shortly confirmed when he heard Rafael huff out a noise that might've sounded haughty if he weren't slightly arching off the bed now to try and get some attention. "What makes you think me taking you apart isn't a reward for me as well?" he asked, and Sonny felt a flush spreading across his cheeks, feeling at once self-conscious and preening at the same time.

 No one had looked at him with the fond appraisal Rafael did in a long while, if not ever. Sonny sometimes squirmed of the idea of sleeping together in lamplight or daylight, knowing he'd be fully exposed, knowing he'd be a perfect picture of debauchery with his legs spread open, arching into touches that so frequently had him crying out. He'd never heard some of the noises that came out of him before in his life, and sometimes balked at the sound of himself giving garbled pleas and needy keens. All of it only seemed to spur Rafael on further, predictable as ever each time.

 He now nudged Rafael to lie down flat on his back, watching him fluff one of his absurdly firm pillows fussily before he rested his head on it. Sonny leaned away slightly, running two fingers lightly against Rafael's cock, feeling the hot, familiar shape of it through the thin fabric. He wondered if he'd taken this much initiative before, knowing there were some memories he couldn't recover unless he sheepishly admitted to Rafael that the drink had taken them from him.

 "Is this all right?" Sonny asked, his voice tentative. "You can just rest," he added, hoping he might be allowed to touch even though it seemed Rafael was still making efforts to shake the sleepiness out of his body.

 Rafael adjusted his head on the pillow, hair spreading out on the plain navy blue pillowcase. "Of course," he conceded, despite his earlier protest about cleaning off more thoroughly, and Sonny felt a strange sense of relief wash through him. He leaned down to nuzzle Rafael's belly, coarse hair exposed there with a trail of it leading down past the waistband of the pants.

 He never stopped being nervous when he found himself here, wanting to use his mouth, wanting to please. Sonny gave an almost chase kiss to Rafael's cock, though he soon darted his tongue out, experimentally licking at the thin layer of cotton. Rafael sighed, low and slow through his nose with his lips pressed together, trying not to lose his control over himself. He slid his fingers through Sonny's hair, rumpled beyond what product could slick back and make manageable for once. Sonny ran his hands up the muscles of Rafael's thighs, playing lightly over the waistband of his pajamas.

 "Are you going to tease me?" Rafael asked petulantly, but there was little impatience in his voice.

 The idea hadn't occurred to Sonny, but it might be worth it to make Rafael squirm for once, if he could be patient himself. He dipped the pads of two fingertips below the waistband of the pajamas, feeling the increasingly hot skin there with what he hoped would come across as easy. He resumed kissing the bulge in Rafael's pajamas, daring to use his tongue to wet the fabric now. The fingers underneath Rafael's waistband were creeping downward, millimeter by excruciating millimeter. Rafael looked more composed than Sonny felt on the inside, almost tempted to abandon any semblance of control he was trying to keep from getting away from him. Sonny was now using his tongue in earnest, enjoying the way that even the fine material felt rough against his mouth.

 Inwardly, he wondered what had come over him.

 "I'm not above testing your patience," Sonny said, his voice low, and he knew Rafael could feel the vibration of his speech against his body based on the way he shuddered, quaking before he could suppress it. He slid a hand around Rafael's backside, kneading at his ass through his pants. It was uncharted territory, and he didn't want to push, not even sure if switching their roles would ever be something he even liked.

 Sonny inched up slightly, kissing the slight swell of Rafael's belly, enjoying the frustrated huff that Rafael let out, wanting his attention lower. Sonny had hoped to conscientiously stomp out some of the selfishness that seemed to have guided him for the dark winter months, to show Rafael that maybe he had some benevolence, some goodness left in him. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the sleep pants, smiling up at Rafael, hoping he was doing the right thing by him. 

 "Finally," Rafael breathed, almost impatiently, his erection bobbing free. Sonny wrapped a slightly tremulous hand across him, giving several experimental strokes just to gauge his reaction. Rafael let out what would've been a gasp if he didn't seem to dead set on keeping his lips pressed together to keep his sounds as contained as possible. Sonny was pleased to find the tip of his cock already glistening with fluid, as though he was already growing needy. "What are you going to do with me?" His tone was challenging and expectant, as though he were opening a gift.

 Coaxing his legs wider, Sonny settled between his thighs, propping himself up with his elbows. He was certainly feeling shy here, looking expectantly up at Rafael even though he had taken it upon himself to initiate, and he imagined there was bashfulness across his face. It was one thing to have the move made on him by another man; it seemed entirely another to try to temper out his eagerness while knowing full well this was exactly what he wanted as well. He tried to think of something smart to say but found himself coming up on empty.

 Instead, he leaned forward, slowly dragging the pad of his tongue across the slick head of Rafael's cock, hoping he could betray his own almost-aggressive need to give Rafael the same pleasure that had been afforded to him the night before. Rafael made a slightly startled noise, despite the fact that their eyes were locked.

 "You look so good," he panted, still running his fingers through the graying strands of Sonny's hair, and Sonny was glad his mouth was becoming otherwise occupied; he knew that Rafael never seemed to like to hear him disagree about the sort of things he worried about - his thinness, his lack of color, the definition of his ribs and the gradual weathering of his face. The low rasp of Rafael's voice made him feel hot and drowning, and he was suddenly all too aware of the heat building in his belly simply from the tease and the promise it carried with it.

 Sonny took Rafael as fully into his mouth as he could manage, still blushing inwardly about his complete lack of experience. He knew that Rafael appreciated being the first - and only, really - to have him like this, but it still made him feel timid to find himself using his mouth to wring soft noises of pleasure from Rafael. The fingers in his hair tightened, the promise of success. He marveled over the feel of the hot skin.

 He pushed his mouth further, far enough to cause a ragged, choking sound to escape him, and he took a few shaky breaths to steady himself, wanting to be so good. His mouth was wet and hot, and Rafael was letting out soft, groaning sounds through gritted teeth, appearing to be in pleasure so good it hurt him already. Sonny wondered how he found himself here in the first place, here reducing Rafael Barba to a trembling, almost desperate already mess in his own luxurious sheets, in the surprisingly sunny light of his apartment on a Saturday morning.

 The slight trail of spittle he typically felt quietly humiliated by had dribbled again from the corner of his mouth, and he wished he weren't using his hands and arms to balance himself so he could wipe it away effectively. Sonny's hips were pressed against the mattress, and he hoped he was being subtle as he moved himself across the sheets, suddenly hoping for nothing more than a little blessed friction.

 "That feels good," Rafael said, trying not to thrust into Sonny's mouth and throat, careful as ever not to choke him, and Sonny was certainly grateful for the consideration. Sonny bobbed his head in earnest, spurred on by the praise and now uncaring for his appearance by the way that Rafael looked down at him between his own spread legs, playing with his hair almost reverently. "You're so good for me," and he knew in the pit of his stomach that it was all for Rafael, all intended to give him pleasure, whether it was in penance for the entire _fucking_ winter, or the simple desire to please.

 His own desperate movements against the mattress did yield some friction, mercifully, and he moaned at the feeling of the layers of the sheets and his own boxers rubbing roughly against him - perhaps a little rougher than he would typically like, but he found himself uncaring as long as Rafael's shuddering groans continued to reach his ears. He wished he was rubbing against any expanse of Rafael's flesh, but it was better than nothing.

 When he looked up again, searching desperately for Rafael's eyes, he shivered against the bed upon finding the dark, heavy lidded gaze fixed on him. Rafael seemingly couldn't help lifting his hips up to meet each downward movement of Sonny's mouth, and Sonny found himself scrambling to keep up with the fast, though not unwelcome pace of Rafael's short, as-restrained-as-possible thrusts. He could already taste the also not unwelcome taste of the bitterness of Rafael's precome, and he relished in the feeling of pride that seemed to wrap around him.

 Sonny hoped the implication was splashed across his face even as his mouth was too occupied to form the words: _I want to make you come_.

 "I'm close," Rafael ground out, placing one hand on Sonny's shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to push him away, to spare him the startling newness of having Rafael come in his mouth. Sonny gave a discouraging noise, only speeding up his movements more. This was what he owed, what he wanted to give and had wanted to give every night he had spent fantasizing about going to bed with Rafael time and time again. "Sonny, are you - " but his voice abruptly stilled, as though any kind of rational thought had been stripped from him. He was slightly glad for the full stop to the sentence, fleetingly worried that Rafael might try to stop him, might try to change his mind and distract him from his goal.

 He was grinding against the bed now, wanting openly himself.

 "Make me come, Sonny," Rafael said now, voice gravely and somehow taking the hint that Sonny had set his mind to this particular task. "Be good and make me come." Perhaps it was an unfair tactic to borderline-exploit what he knew to be Sonny's greatest motivator, but Rafael savored the low, quick noise of agreement that Sonny made around his length. He quickened his pace further, dragging his tongue down the length of Rafael's erection.

 Sonny could see Rafael's thighs trembling where they spread, perhaps straining to stay open to allow him access. He dragged his nails gently down the tender skin of Rafael's inner thighs. Rafael let out a startled, delighted noise, thrusting upward a final time and coming hard. Sonny flinched at the taste, the reality of what he'd allowed Rafael to do to him this morning crashing through him for a few jarring seconds before settling into a sense of sheepish enjoyment, watching Rafael settle back into an exhausted stillness, struggling to regain his composure and slow his breathing.

 A bead of come had left the corner of his mouth and joined the dribble of saliva that ran down to his chin. Sonny drew his fingertip through the stray drop and sucked the tip of his finger into his mouth, and Rafael made a happy, albeit strangled sound from the back of his throat. Sonny watched his cock twitch slightly, and fleetingly wished he'd had the foresight to plead with Rafael to give him his cock.

 "That was - " Rafael exhaled all at once, the air leaving him in a rush and taking with it any sort of articulation that would've benefited him in the aftermath. Sonny still hadn't moved from between his legs even as Rafael drew them slightly closer together, bracketing Sonny's body with the loose splay of his knees. Sonny bit down on his lip and circled his hips, dragging out the slightest hint of pressure on his cock.

 After a few moments of watching Sonny struggle against the mattress, Rafael made a soft, pitying noise and hooked his hands beneath Sonny's shoulders. He coaxed Sonny up to his knees and then directed him to pause as he unbuttoned his own pajama shirt, now fully exposing his chest.

 "Take off your underwear," he said, still sounding breathless but somehow authoritative. Sonny shimmied awkwardly out of his boxers, kicking them off the ankle they got hung up in on the way down. They landed on the floor next to the bed to be ignored. Rafael maneuvered Sonny to spread his legs and settle above him with his knees splayed on either side of Rafael's hips.

"Please," Sonny asked, voice coming out as something akin to a wheeze.

"Please what?" His fingertips were drumming idly on Sonny's thigh, and Sonny looked down to see his cock, reddened and needy where it rested against Rafael's belly.

"I want to come," Sonny rasped out, uncaring how close to despondent he may have sounded now. It was the kind of tone that would've made him scramble to accommodate the person using it, but Rafael's gaze was steady as ever, even in the aftermath of his orgasm. "I've been so good," he tried again when he felt the tips of Rafael's fingers trailing up his thigh, hoping to spur him into merciful action. It would be undignified to beg, especially for something like this, but more often than not, the things he tried to tamp down on, to keep hidden and out of sight and up his sleeve ended up exploding out of him without warning.

"You have," Rafael agreed, finally curling the fingers of his right hand around Sonny's cock while steadying him with his other hand, firm and unyielding and lightly kneading at his ass where Sonny straddled him. "You wouldn’t believe how much I love your mouth on me," he said, stroking Sonny now with smooth jerks of his wrist.

Sonny shivered on top of him as the praise hit his ears. "I - I like making you feel good," he confessed, his voice small.

The speed of the strokes increased, and Sonny felt himself inching dangerously close to the precipice already. "Lucky me," Rafael murmured, hand moving quickly and unrelentingly. "All this at my fingertips these days."

He felt like every inch of him was being consumed by fire, the combination of Rafael's words landing heavily on his ears and burrowing into him. "Yes, yes - I'm yours," Sonny gasped out, the words flying from him and unable to be roped in now that they were out in the air. He supposed it wasn't a terrible concession to what Rafael had told him the night before as they both fell asleep; if it wasn't perfect, it was at least the best he could give. His cheeks were flushed.

"You are," Rafael said, his voice confident and almost strict. "And since you're mine, I want you to come for me," he said, his strokes tighter and less controlled now, the way he did to himself right before he reached the edge.

The sound that tore out of Sonny as he spilled across Rafael's hand and chest seemed to startle both of them, loud and raw to both of their ears. Sonny took nearly violent gulps for air, and wondered briefly if it was possible to die from suffocation in the aftermath of a particularly shattering orgasm. He sagged forward, having to steady himself with a hand clutching at Rafael's shoulder. An alarming set of tears prickled at each of his eyes, and he reached up to scrub them away before Rafael noticed, and he tried to attribute it to the overwhelming force of his climax.

Rafael ran his hands soothingly up and down Sonny's back, lightly smearing stray drops of his come there, but Sonny couldn't find the presence of mind to care. "You certainly know how to start a morning off well," he mused, nearly petting Sonny as he tried to come down. Sonny gave a single nod, as much as he was capable of offering right now.

He suddenly became conscious of the weight he must be putting on Rafael, sitting here atop him, and tried to make a halfhearted effort to roll off of him. "I'm sorry, I - " he panted, breath still not cooperating with him fully.

A gentle hand ran down his flank as Rafael made a soothing, comforting sound to shush him. "Take as much as you need," he offered, still petting him like one would with a particularly good pet. There was sometimes a small part of him that resented the ease with which Rafael reduced him to this, but he hoped it would never deter him from picking him apart into glad, compliant pieces. It was nice to have his head swim for a good reason, as opposed to frantically trying to reframe horrors as facets of life, of a career he sometimes enjoyed.

"Last night," Sonny began, but found he couldn't bring himself to continue, heat flushing across his cheeks, his own uncertainty making shame prickle within him.

If Rafael were hurt or annoyed by his inability to give any kind of further explanation about how he'd decided he wanted to proceed after Rafael's tentative and sleepy admission, his expression and the tender path of his hand did little to betray it. "It's all right. I know," he said, almost as dismissively as New Yorkers did when someone tried to converse about the weather in a half-full elevator. Sonny wasn't sure what Rafael seemed to know, but tried to relax as each hand found its way to his waist, rubbing his hipbones in lazy circles.

 Sonny thought about offering some kind of further explanation, but the words died on his tongue, half-formed and unsure of where they might lead, leaving him grateful for the informal permission to be silent for once. He leaned forward and kissed Rafael, slow and tender, thankful the room had slowed to the brief meeting of their lips. He found himself wanting to let out a few words of gratitude, but thought better of it.

 They looked at each other for several long moments, and Sonny felt laid bare before the man underneath him. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against Rafael's cheek idly, making him smile. The intimacy was almost unbearable, palpable in the room, and Sonny surprised himself by not flinching away from the smile, the eye contact, the simple act of being and enjoying without the immediate hesitancy that always seemed to sniff him out, to track him down and stop him in his tracks.

 "Interested in breakfast?" Rafael asked, taking Sonny's hand from his shoulder and brushing his lips across the pulse point in his wrist. Sonny was suddenly acutely aware of the empty feeling in his stomach, and he nodded wordlessly, leaning down and kissing Rafael again. Rafael smiled against his mouth before pushing him back upright. "Get in the shower before either of us gets more disgusting," he said, almost a command, his nose wrinkled. Sonny offered a soft chuckle, not requiring further direction.

 -

 They'd agreed on a small café, almost akin to a hole in the wall, though by the time they'd scrubbed any amount of filth - by Rafael's definition, naturally - from their skins, it was closer to brunch. Rafael huffed good naturedly at approximately six of Sonny's suggestions, noting that pretty much anywhere in the city with a decent breakfast menu would be packed with hipsters and the beginning stages of bachelorette parties on a Saturday morning in the spring.

 The idea of going to brunch with another man made me laugh inwardly to think what a garage stuffed with his pop's friends would say - _which one of ya carries the purse, Junior?_ \- and it gnawed at him for a moment, almost enough to make him blush. He was thankful Rafael was studying the menu intently - looking for something that wouldn't riddle him with cavities, he'd told Sonny almost pointedly. Things that would cause cavities were always the things he'd liked best.

 The waitress returned to the table, all perky chirps about the menu and an easy smile - the kind that always made Sonny equal parts envious and optimistic. She requested their drink orders, and Sonny paused as though waiting for some type of cue.

 "Bloody Mary," Rafael said easily, not looking up from the menu. It was brief and scant, the kind of restaurant that knew it didn't need a hundred choices to make money, would succeed based on reputation alone. "Extra Tabasco, please."

 Sonny felt cornered, frozen for a moment trying to decide exactly what he was supposed to do. He supposed this was the universe's way to get him to hearken back to his Saturday roots: drinking slowly throughout the day out of boredom, or maybe something more. He blinked down at the menu.

 "And for you, sir?" the waitress asked, smile impossibly warm and so genuine he wondered he long she'd lived in the city, or maybe there were just people out there who didn't see people stripped to the bone day in and day out. "Bloody Mary for you as well? Maybe a mimosa?" She rubbed her hands together on that note as though delighted by the idea of someone enjoying a nice Saturday instead of being stuck taking orders for eggs Benedict.

 Rafael gave him a pitying look and pointed at the menu. "They have a mimosa with beer instead of champagne," he supplied helpfully, though the sense of assistance came more from the idea that Sonny wouldn't be breaking their recent, rarely spoken rules by having a midday drink in his company.

 He bobbed his head in agreement. "That, then," he said, closing the folded drink menu and letting it sit back on the table where he'd found it. He supposed there weren't many beermosa options with Coors in them, and resigned himself to the idea that the drink would likely be fancier than he was. The waitress made a noise of agreement and picked up the drink menus, flouncing off to the bar.

 The fact that it had been a considerable amount of time since he'd had any kind of drink in front of Rafael did not go unnoticed, probably since the time he'd staggered to the ADA's office reeking of cheap well tequila with a pitiful half-apology on his tongue. The drink certainly hadn't left him, as evidenced by the too-large sack of empty cans currently waiting - too long, of course - to be recycled. Sonny had never been one to give up on something he felt strongly enough about, and it struck him as darkly funny that this would be no exception. He supposed it was a Carisi man's lot in life to be made up of eighty percent water and the remainder of it geniality and humble domestic brews.

 There was a small voice in him that chided him on his failure to abstain, and he swallowed the lump that had built in his throat, looking blankly down at the folded napkin he hadn't touched in the spot where his place would be.

 "That wasn't a test," Rafael told him, and the statement was abrupt enough to make Sonny look up from his plate, almost hopefully. Rafael was straightening his own napkin and cutlery where they'd been disrupted by the way the waitress sat the drink menu in front of him.

 "Sorry?" Sonny asked, caught off guard. There were so many things they tiptoed around talking about - the drinking, the confessions, all of it - that the immediate acknowledgement threw him for a loop. He busied himself by looking down at his menu, trying to pretend he was working on a very difficult conundrum - choosing the most decadent toppings possible for his Belgian waffle, maybe. He wondered if it was cowardice or anticipation of a big, sugary breakfast, but knew that not-so-deep down that it was certainly the former.

 "There's a difference between chugging beers like a broke fraternity pledge and having a drink with a friend at brunch," Rafael said, sounding casual as ever. Sonny wondered if _friend_ was a euphemism that Rafael had considerably chosen to put him at ease, knowing Sonny had felt a twist of his stomach imagining the two of them going out together on a weekend. It was one thing to spend a morning in bed, a clash of lips with the barest clacking of teeth, but this seemed to be a different kind of animal.

 Their eyes locked and Sonny gave a guilty smile, felt it creeping across his face before he could stop it.

 "Well, I was never in a frat," Sonny said, trying to betray the way that nerves had manifested in his chest to challenge his ability to maintain eye contact. "If you think about it, the fact that I got so good at as an amateur is pretty impressive." It felt odd to joke about something that had been the source of so much ire between the two of them, had been such a hot button issue for Rafael at first and had only gotten under his skin more as time went on.

 As much as Sonny was afraid he'd toed the line too much by mentioning his extracurriculars, Rafael regarded him with a wry half-smile. "I suppose you were a prodigy," he agreed. It was a silly thing to say, something that felt odd to bask in, but Sonny supposed he would take it where he could get it. He'd won a third place ribbon at a cross country meet in high school, long legs never a disadvantage, and had felt a sense of pride of it, even when he watched his next door neighbor Tim Bryant throw his water bottle down in the mud when he'd only gotten second place.

 The waitress returned with their drinks. Sonny's appeared surprisingly dark with some hand crafted hipster beer that a guy with a mustache would rave over for having a _rad hops profile_ or something similarly grating. He drummed his finger at the base of the pint glass it came in, as though waiting for permission. It was an unfamiliar feeling to not dive into something potent face first.

 Rafael took his first sip of his Bloody Mary immediately before ordering some kind of lofty protein scramble that Sonny probably could've made at home in about fifteen minutes, but Rafael didn't seem to flinch when looking at its cost on the menu. Sonny ordered a Belgian waffle with berry compote and extra powdered sugar, and was regarded with a raised eyebrow from Rafael.

 "Carisis don't do anything in moderation, I guess," Sonny said, and it occurred to him that it explained both everything and nothing all at once.

 The expression that cross Rafael's face was unreadable. "We're all a product of our environment, I suppose," he said, taking another sip of his drink, but his tone was still fond. Their feet brushed underneath the table, and Sonny wondered if it was intentional but also found he didn't quite mind. "Your drink is going to get warm," he noted mildly, noticing Sonny had made no effort to hurry up and tuck into the beermosa. It glowed a hazy orange on the table, and he found his mouth watering slightly.

 When it hit his lips, Sonny wanted to smile, even as he'd regarded the overpriced drink skeptically before it came out to the table. It was as rich and delicious and so spectacularly cold as he'd wanted it to be, and he was thankful he'd allowed Rafael to suggest it. Their table was small and tucked toward the back of the restaurant, and they were seated closely enough for Sonny to brush his fingers across the top of Rafael's knuckles, to briefly link their fingers together where no one could see.

 A mere millisecond or two seemed to have passed before the bell at the front door jangled, sounding jaunty and old-fashioned in the space of the café. The door swung open and still-cold spring air blew in after it. Sonny's eyes reflexively looked up, and he blanched and pulled their fingers away.

 Amanda and Kim had just stepped in the door, still in jackets and scarves, and Amanda balanced Jesse on one of her hips as the little girl fussed with bright cheeks.

 "Oh fuck," Sonny hissed to himself before he could stop himself.

 Rafael's back was to the door, and he regarded Sonny quizzically. "Rave review," he said, nodding toward the beermosa, but the joke went unnoticed and unappreciated.

 Any hope of playing it cool seemed to evaporate from him, and he swallowed, hoping that maybe their table was far enough in the back that they wouldn't be seen, but knowing it was likely futile. Sonny could feel his ears burning, and he quickly, embarrassedly supposed it was akin to what his ma had always said - _well, somebody must be talking about ya, Sonny_. He opened his mouth to try to explain his immediate startle reflex to Rafael in what would've been a hushed, quick tangle of words, but it was too late -

 "Good morning!" he heard Kim's voice coming as she approached their table, all warm, languid drawl, and it would've been pleasant if he didn't feel caught red handed. Since he'd had no look at his six, Rafael's eyes widened for a split second, but blessedly went back to their normal size before Kim and Amanda had approached the table. They looked like they'd put effort into their outfits today - soft florals, hair looking well arranged - and if he squinted, Sonny could see them as just two sisters out for a nice brunch, could maybe imagine what they had been like before New York made everything so goddamn complicated.

 The thought of what people thought when they didn't know the full story settled in his stomach.

 He took a quick drink, perhaps trying to look busy and, in equal part, trying to get a mouthful of liquid courage - some was better than none at all. When he told them good morning, it stuck in his throat, garbling and choking him. Kim patted him on the back, invading his personal space in an effort to keep him from sputtering.

 Amanda was right behind her, her expression bright. It was nice to see her on a weekend, hair slightly tousled in a way that made her look comfortable. Jesse had one handful of Amanda's hair firmly knotted in her fist, pulling a little and leaving Amanda cringing and lightly trying to bat her hand away to no avail.

 "Look who it is," she said warmly, still bouncing Jesse on one hip, angling herself toward Sonny. "Uncle Sonny." Sonny mustered up what he hoped was a convincing enough smile, waggling his fingers at Jesse, trying to make the little girl smile despite the fact that she didn't seem to want to at the moment. Amanda introduced Kim to Rafael, and they made amenable small talk for a few seconds before Amanda turned her attention back to Sonny.

 She was smiling pointedly at him. "Didn't have you pegged as the fancy breakfast type," she said, knowing Sonny was mostly a _doughnut from a convenience store_ type of guy.

 Before he could respond, Rafael interjected. "If I'm consulting with Carisi on how to study for the Bar, we're certainly going to do it in my natural habitat," he said smoothly, and Sonny wondered how it was possible for someone to think on his feet so adeptly. It also occurred to him that Rafael was quick to offer a white lie on his behalf, and he wondered why.

 "It just seemed like payback for a small favor," Sonny heard himself saying, though his ability to reframe the present was certainly not as convincing as Rafael's had been.

 Amanda's expression was slightly bemused, almost knowing, but he knew she would never been as indelicate as to call him out on the spot; rather, it would probably come far down the line the next time there was an empty row of shotglasses before the two of them."Well, if you're getting study tips, that means you're eventually going to have to sign up for the test now," she teased.

 "Or at least come over and make us dinner again," Kim chimed in, and Sonny beamed to remember the way they had both fawned over his lasagna at the end of last summer, back when things felt brighter. It felt like a hundred years ago.

 "Oh, for sure," Sonny said, the idea of a quiet night in sounding ideal.

 Jesse was pulling insistently at Amanda's hair now, making high pitched noises that sounded like nails on a chalk board even to Sonny's ears, despite the fact that he had never met a kid he couldn't have a conversation with.

 "All right, all right," Amanda said to her, conceding defeat and trying to shift Jesse's weight enough to get comfortable. "This one needs something to eat - she's in a foul mood this morning, otherwise we'd love to pull up another couple chairs. I wouldn't want to subject you to that so early on a Saturday." Sonny wondered if she was trying to appease him, knowing enough to register that she had suddenly found herself in the middle of something furtive.

 To Sonny's horror, her eyes had wandered down to his drink and then over to his hand that sat on the table next to it. The sleeve of his shirt had ridden up enough to expose the chafed skin of his wrist, notably dark, though not as red as the night before but unmistakable to anyone in their line of work. She regarded Sonny with a curious, momentarily bewildered look, immediately interested but tempered by tact she didn't always have easily at her disposal. He was thankful for it but wondered with a small sliver of panic that it might not last long, brought out for questions on a later day.

 "Well, enjoy your breakfast," Kim said cheerfully, clearly oblivious to anything implied other than the surface level niceties they'd exchanged despite her sister's rapt attention and quiet analysis. "It was nice to meet you," she told Rafael. The waitress was approaching with their food, and the area around their table was feeling claustrophobic. If Sonny were wearing a tie, he'd have loosened it like a cartoon character.

 "See you Monday," Amanda added, and Sonny nodded and offered a pleasant goodbye despite the fact that his palms were sweating. The two sisters departed.

 If Rafael had been ruffled by the chance encounter, he gave no sign of it, simply adding hot sauce to his protein scramble. Sonny's stomach was fluttering now, something akin to adrenaline not ready to leave him just yet to give him peace enough to eat. Sonny turned his attention to the beermosa, its cheerful color almost mocking.

 "That was unexpected," Rafael said mildly, in what Sonny thought must have been an intentional understatement. He took a delicate bite, somehow making something drenched in hot sauce look fine and composed. Nothing here seemed spicy enough for Rafael.

 "It was," Sonny agreed, picking a couple of berries off of his waffle and eating those as a starting point. He supposed he was lucky to be able to trust Amanda, even after the fact that he'd spent time trying to get her to notice him as more than _just a friend; how juvenile_. She'd probably take it as a relief, he noted to himself, and at least that thought made him smile. He picked up the small silver pitcher of maple syrup that had come with the waffle, drowning it in a soggy swamp of powdered sugar and fruit, marveling at the way it quickly filled each square hole as though it was made to be there.

 Rafael was still eating, unfazed. "You know, if you need help _studying_ , I wouldn't mind helping out," he said when he'd finished chewing and swallowing another bite of egg and potato. One corner of his mouth was quirked up, and it took Sonny an embarrassing moment to recognize implication there. He kicked himself for being obtuse, feeling small.

 "Sure, of course," he said, finally taking a bite of the waffle. It was cloyingly sweet, exactly what he'd hoped for.

 -

 "I don't mind, you know," Rafael said, lying in bed next to Sonny on the flat of his back, still fully clothed. The day had dragged on and the sky was darkening around the edges. They'd watched television, ordered takeout Thai, and deliberately avoided talking about the events of the brunch. It had been gnawing underneath Sonny's skin, building up within him before dying before it could make it off his tongue. He felt slightly startled when he'd registered where the conversation seemed to be going.

 For his part, Sonny lay on his back, eyes trained on the ceiling. He licked his lips - they were still dry and wind burned, even as the weather warmed. "I - I'm sorry," he said, his voice quiet and embarrassed. "I just - I don't know what I'm doing." It felt uncomfortably honest, making his skin feel stretched too tight to fit his skeleton.

 "You mention that like it's a surprise to me," Rafael said, not unkindly, but somewhat dismissively of the part that had Sonny squirming and afraid. "I told you, I don’t expect some grand, romantic proclamation here." He rolled onto his side, rubbing his thumb across the underside of Sonny's wrist. He was surprised to find that the touch didn't hurt where it brushed the red marks he'd tried to avoid touching throughout the day, worrying the pain might be a scary reminder of what he'd so eagerly trusted Rafael with the night before.

 "That doesn't sound fair," Sonny said, edging toward frustration on Rafael's behalf.

 Rafael's smile was small, and he tangled their fingers together like Sonny had done underneath the table at the café. "Fairness is a concept for children," he said, and it made hurt settle into Sonny's bones. He swore he could hear the blood rushing in his ears, overwhelming and omnipotent in its noise. He wondered if his hands were sweating.

 "She saw the marks," Sonny blurted out, remembering the feel of Amanda's eyes boring a hole into the bruising on his wrists. "Amanda, I mean," he added, as though it was necessary to provide any kind of clarification.

 "I noticed," Rafael agreed, and it made Sonny feel better to know that he was not alone in picking out Amanda's fixed, appraising look. "Worry about it later," he encouraged, kissing the underside of Sonny's jaw. When he leaned away, he ran a hand through Sonny's hair. "As a matter of fact, save any other thing kicking around in your head right now for later." The tenderness was palpable, overwhelming, and exactly what Sonny felt he was unworthy of. It was too much and simultaneously just enough. It felt good to be told to give up for a while.

 "Rafael, I - " Sonny tried, but he didn't know what to say. Instead, he laid a tentative hand on Rafael's hip, leaning up as best as he could to kiss him with the angle awkward. There was the faint taste of wine on Rafael's mouth, the one glass they'd each allowed themselves earlier in the evening with takeout. Their fingers were still laced together, and Rafael made a quiet, almost possessive noise and he pinned Sonny's hand to the bed.

 They kissed like this for long minutes, Rafael pushing Sonny gently back down to his back in order to simplify the borderline-uncomfortable angle. Sonny moaned softly into his mouth as Rafael wedged a thigh between his legs, and he gasped at the feel of allowing himself to push down on it. Need was thrumming through his body, bringing sweat to his forehead. Rafael abandoned the grip on his hand and slid his own down Sonny's arm and sidebody, coming down to his front to pick open the button on his jeans.

 Sonny ground his hips shamelessly against Rafael's hand, all pretense of composure leaving him in a slow trickle, and he knew he would be reduced to a heap of wanting within moments. He let out a shaky breath as he felt Rafael's fingers wrap around him, and he gasped against Rafael's lips. There was something burning in him, his control evaporating, and he felt at a dangerous knife's edge of being nothing.

 "You want it?" Rafael asked, as though any confirmation was needed but still ever considerate. Sonny nodded with something close to franticness, lifting his hips so Rafael could work the jeans down. Rafael continued to slowly pump him, biting gently at his nipple through the thin layer of his t-shirt, and he could see that Rafael was unbuttoning his own pants so he could worm his hand in to touch himself.

 "I always want it," Sonny confessed, kicking his jeans off and to the floor. Rafael smiled and allowed Sonny enough space to wrestle himself out of his shirt, leaving him feeling exposed in ways he almost couldn't count.

 "You're right," Rafael said, giving a contented hum as he undressed himself, only allowing his hands off of Sonny to strip himself. He let his clothes join Sonny's in a heap on the floor, mindless in his need to feel their flesh together. Their limbs were tangled, and Sonny could feel their cocks against each other, hot and hard. Rafael rocked their hips together but made no effort to use his hands on either of them now. It reminded Sonny of the first time he'd ever made out with a girl in the backseat of his beater car junior year, his hand up her shirt and under her bra. The version he found in adulthood was so much better, delicious and dirty.

 His hand wound its way around the back of Rafael's neck, dragging him in for a kiss - sloppier than he usually allowed himself to be, but unable to hold back for anything refined. Their teeth banged against each other, and Sonny hummed out a soft noise of apology even though Rafael didn’t seem bothered in the least. He could feel Rafael's hair bunched in between his fingers, a grip that he hoped wasn't too tight, and Rafael huffed against his mouth.

 Sonny gave a shuddering sigh, splaying his legs apart in invitation, knowing words probably wouldn't be necessary, but knowing they'd be wrung out of him nonetheless. Rafael slid his hands down and around to grasp at Sonny's ass, kneading the skin before easing the globes of his ass apart to tease his rim with one dry, gentle finger.

 "This what you want?" Rafael asked, kissing down Sonny's neck, and Sonny found himself struggling to think straight enough to answer in agreement. "Have you been thinking about this all day? Me inside of you?"

 "Yes," Sonny answered, his voice a needy hiss, feeling a hint of the tip of Rafael's finger slipping inside just barely. "Oh - please - I think about it all the time." It was the truth.

 He could feel Rafael's smile against his neck, could feel the way he shifted himself up to rub his cock in the tight crease of his ass, bare and heated and unlike anything he'd ever felt before. "One day I'd take you like this, if you wanted me to," Rafael said, ever-cautious even though his control seemed to be slipping. "I'd like to get to know what you really feel like inside," he said breathlessly, and Sonny gasped, arching up and hoping to be filled.

 Rafael made quick work of slicking his fingers, and Sonny could feel his cheeks heat at the slick noise of lube as it was spread around, preparing to ease inside of him.

 " _Please_ ," Sonny gasped, angling his hips up for easier access. Rafael gave him an impossibly fond smile, stroking hair off of his damp forehead. "I want you inside me." It seemed to do the trick, and he could feel Rafael's fingers returning to stroke the outside of his hole, spreading a little lube there before two of them slid inside. Sonny made a strangled, pleasured noise, giving himself a moment to adjust before he knew he'd get greedy.

 "You are so beautiful, Sonny," Rafael said, crooking his fingers and kissing Sonny hotly on the mouth. He seemed to be everywhere, tongue in Sonny's mouth, body solid and strong and pinned against his own, fingers deep inside of him and opening him up for what was to come. "You are gorgeous." Rafael's breath was labored, and it gave Sonny a rush of feeling of power to hear the reaction he'd drawn from him.

 Sonny didn't trust himself to respond, writing in the sheets and pushing backwards, desperate for something, _anything_ \- whatever Rafael would take enough mercy to give him. His fingers were insistently rubbing against Sonny's prostate, ever present as he eased his third finger inside to stretch him. It made a burning ache blossom inside of him, and he cried out as pearlescent drop of precome pooled at his slit. He wanted to stammer out a plea, but only a strangled cry could make its way out.

 "I want to be inside of you," Rafael murmured, his voice nearly shaky as he rasped against Sonny's ear.

 "Do it, please - _please_ ," Sonny said raggedly, pushing his hips hard back against Rafael's hand in unabashed need. "Please, fuck me." His mouth was wide, taking desperate gulps for air, pushed to his limit and still wanting a hard, delicious push further.

 It seemed to be the exact, correct response Rafael was looking for, and he slid his fingers free, stroking the loosened just-enough, furled rim of Sonny's hole, making him give a shaky, disappointed sigh at the loss. Rafael laid the hand against Sonny's belly, comforting as he unwrapped the condom and rolled it on himself.

 The slide of Rafael's cock inside of him - one smooth, insistent stroke - made Sonny offer a strangled moan, caught off guard and so tight around Rafael's cock that he could hear a throaty groan rumbling from Rafael, could feel it against his bare skin. Rafael gave him a moment to adjust, ever-courteous not to hurt him unless asked, and stroked the pad of his thumb around of the rounded points of Sonny's collarbone. Sonny squirmed, wanting more pressure and thrust inside, looking pleadingly up at Rafael. Rafael offered an experimental, testing movement of his hips, and Sonny felt a moan tear free of him.

 "I want to make you feel so good," Rafael murmured against his ear, pulling partway out before pushing back in, somehow deeper than before, and it drew a ragged cry from Sonny. He tried to spread his legs wider, needy and inviting, and clutched at Rafael's hand. "You look so good all laid out for me," Rafael continued, giving a few more slow, rolling thrusts, and Sonny felt like he might be dying - a not unwelcome way to go.

 Sonny's eyes were clenched shut tightly, and he could feel himself trembling in the comforting cage of Rafael's limbs, held down with his cock trapped between their bodies. It felt like exactly where he needed to be right now, maybe where he had needed to be all along, even when he was unwilling to allow it, content to fight like a wild animal. Their eyes were locked together. He could feel sweat on Rafael's back where his hand had slid in hopes of drawing them even closer together.

 He'd been waiting all day, and now it felt like too much.

 Rafael's lips were reddened from the kisses, and he pressed a tender one to Sonny's forehead as he moved inside of him. His hand crept down Sonny's front, wrapping around his cock and beginning to stroke in conjunction with his thrusts. Sonny's heart was racing now, partly from exertion and partly from the feel of _too much_ that he hoped would never end. There was an open look of adoration across Rafael's face.

  _I think that I could love you, if you'd let me_.

 He knew he was shaking all over now, and would've been self conscious of it if Rafael weren't whispering endearments in his ear, in and out of two languages, almost unintelligible to Sonny but feeling _so goddamn good_.

 "I'm close," Rafael gritted out, and Sonny made a garbled noise of agreement. He hooked one ankle around Rafael's lower back, drawing him inside even deeper.

 Their eye contact hadn't wavered, even now as Rafael's thrusts got harder, deeper, more erratic, as the hand on his cock sped up.

 Sonny felt swallowed alive.

 "Raf - I just - " he panted out, an ominous feeling building up in him that he couldn't shake away, and maybe didn't want to -

 "I know," Rafael said, crushing their mouths indelicately together, breaking away only to get some oxygen in his lungs. His free hand rested against the skin in the center of Sonny's chest, tracing his thumb down Sonny's sternum, feeling the pronounced bone through the thin layer of the skin there. "Your heart is pounding."

 It seemed to shorten every circuit in Sonny's brain, and he made desperate, pleading eye contact with Rafael. "Please, Rafael, _please_ \- I _love_ you, I - "

 The world seemed to slow, and Sonny immediately could feel a hot, molten sweep invading him, eating at his whole body. His face reddened with a shocked, embarrassed splash of color, and he wished he could've wondered where the words had come from but knew without question that he'd been fighting them down for too long. The best secrets never got kept for long. He squeezed his eyes shut.

 Rafael made a startled noise and thrust harder, leaning down to kiss him sweetly in contrast to the quick, inward presses of his cock. "Come for me, Sonny," he said lightly, voice husky and thick in his mouth. "Let go, baby. Be good for me."

 The intimacy was staggering, welcome, and there was no room now for regret in this moment, not with the way that Rafael allowed his lips to brush Sonny's lightly, breathing air into his mouth for sharing. It was considerate as ever, and Sonny could feel an ache settling into his chest, knowing he'd crossed a line that had dissolved behind him as soon as he stepped over it. The profession had startled him, and his blood was roaring loudly in his ears, knowing he'd let something go that he'd never be able to snatch back. It felt right somehow, terrifying like jumping into something dark and unknown.

 He gave a startled cry, spilling come hot between their bodies, and he could hear Rafael whispering soft words of praise, still stroking him and dragging a last few drops of come through him. "That's it. That's good," Rafael whispered, still thrusting but slowing, make them shallower, ever careful not to hurt or overwhelm. Sonny gave him a sated look of appreciation.

 "It's your turn," Sonny said, lightly playing with the hair at the back of Rafael's neck.

 " _Christ_ ," Rafael spit, doubling over and quaking as he came. He rounded his back, slumping over to give Sonny a shaky-breathed kiss, running his hands down Sonny's sides to make him shiver.

 Sonny made a soft noise of protest as Rafael drew out of him, stepping away for a few minutes to get them each a glass of water and a damp towel. He lightly washed the come from Sonny's belly, carding his fingers through the graying strands at his temples. He fussed over Sonny, occasionally brushing his lips against Sonny's, savoring the soft, pleased noises the kisses brought from him. Sonny's eyes were closed, and he hadn't moved so much as an inch.

 Once the ritual of cleaning had ended, Rafael returned, resting a gentle hand on the outside of Sonny's thigh. He turned out the light, leaving them in darkness aside from the last few vestiges of light coming in through the window, dusk almost gone. It was quiet, all city noise considered, save for the slowing of their breaths.

 "Did you mean it?" Rafael's voice was tentative, as though he might be reconsidering whether or not he wanted to ask.

 Sonny was silent for a moment or two, feeling anxiety coiling over and over on itself - not breeding a lie, instead trying to coax a long overdue sense of honesty to come from him.

 "Yes," he said truthfully, feeling his heart hammering as he spoke the syllable out into the mostly-dark of the room. There was a long, satisfied pause from Rafael. Sonny took a shaky breath. "I'm afraid," he admitted, closing his eyes and feeling overwhelmingly pathetic at his own sense of apprehension.

 Rafael leaned over him, giving him a long, chaste kiss, lacing their fingers together.

 "Don't be - it's just me."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! This part took longer than I expected it to, maybe because these two decided to try to stop being so miserable over each other.  
> Also, beermosas are real and delicious, and writing Carisi and Rollins as bros has been one of my favorite things about this fic.
> 
> Title of this chapter is from Drake - Hold On, We're Going Home, because why not?  
> Thank you all again, as always, for your feedback and kind support - I appreciate so much and wouldn't have nearly as much fun without them!


	10. x. come on down from that cloud and cast your fears aside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A test, a confession, and the reward for both.

Sonny drummed his fingertips idly on his thigh, irrationally hoping not to be spotted in a low- cost clinic at noon on a Wednesday, broad daylight splashed across his face and eager to incriminate. Sure, it would've been relatively easy to schedule something through the PD to get checked out, but he'd always worried over the notion that anything he said could and would be used against him if he were to go to one of the sanctioned doctors offered under his benefits. He wondered if he had simply succumbed long ago to paranoia. Carisis weren't exactly a secretive people, but he'd picked up a few things along the way to today that set him apart and aside into a shadow.

 Maybe he just didn't want the number of drinks he consumed in a week somehow emblazoned on the front page of his personnel file.

 Things had gotten better, particularly on the nights he spent bundled in the Egyptian cotton sheets Rafael refused to go without. His toes no longer froze when he walked to the precinct; he no longer felt the need to drown himself in cheap Folgers just to avoid the cold that never seemed to leave. Busch would never leave him, but had become a lesser companion.

 Sometimes he smiled now without readily knowing why.

 The wait time was nerve-wrackingly long, making him shift slowly from side to side in his seat, not eager to give off the aura of restlessness but keeping a fixed eye on his watch. Sonny was eager to get back to 1PP, to offer some type of excuse about needing to stretch his legs or take a family phone call - anything to falsely explain why he'd been absent during the lunch hour.

 There were several people in the waiting room - a flustered mother with three children apparently under five, one of the little boys with snot streaming down and over his upper lip looking as miserable as Sonny felt inwardly as his sisters fought over a book of magnetic paper dolls. A teenage boy sat in the corner with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled down low, Beats headphones threatening to deafen him with a hip hop song Sonny could make out from across the room.

 The nurse called him Dominick when she'd taken the swabs, had offered kind praise at the way he tolerated the blood draw despite turning an almost-shade of green at the needle stick, encouraging him to look away.

"You should get something in a few days," she said, offering him his discharge papers. "In the mail, that ease. Should something come up, someone will call you."

 It wasn't that Sonny would think _something_ would come up. He was fastidious about condoms, something his father had drilled into him - _I ain't paying for a baby, Sonny, wrap it up_ \- and he always came prepared, had since the general principle of readiness had been hammered into his brain along with knots and smoke signals in Eagle Scouts. Offering a "safe sex" badge would be almost as irresponsible as having it in the first place.

 The smell of sterile pads and faint latex made him queasy, and he escaped as soon as he was allowed. He glanced over his shoulder leaving the clinic, knowing it had a reputation for specializing in _these types_ of things. Still, it seemed a necessary evil with the echoes of his conversation with Rafael the last time he'd stayed over.

  _One day I'd take you like this, if you wanted me to._ He'd spent three days squirming in his seat at the memory, the idea of Rafael pressing into him, hot and excitingly, terrifyingly bare - a level of trust Sonny questioned whether or not he deserved. It was an easy thing, to have shame in hindsight, but he'd spent the next three evenings fucking into his own slick fist when his mind wandered to it, eyes fixed on the red ring around his wrist until it had finally faded to nothingness on the second day. The modest part of him was glad. The wanton side of him mourned the loss.  

 Sonny bought a hot dog from a street vendor, something quick enough to be devoured on the walk back to the precinct so no one would question him coming back from an hour long lunch with takeout. It went down in a few gulps, nearly sticking in his throat as he walked quickly down the several blocks of grime back.

 When he reached his desk he sighed as his eyes fell on a stack of folders - notes for overdue and faulty reports, the bane of his existence. There always seemed to be too much to go around with never enough time between atrocity and next atrocity to write about each of them, to dredge up the memory of every minute detail. There was a similar one on Amanda's desk across from his, one which she was already grimacing at.

 Lieu was standing in the doorway, hand on her hip with her brow furrowed.

 "Looks like the two of you'll be spending some long overdue time with your keyboards," she said, clearly disappointed to have to bring down the proverbial hammer onto two of her finest. Amanda opened her mouth to protest, but Olivia held up one hand to head the argument off at the pass. "Turns out I should've been nagging a little harder. Tighten it up and I'll let you back out tomorrow." It seemed that word had come down from above, even over her head, but she was gone before Sonny could ask questions.

 Amanda let out a long groan, uncharacteristically petulant as she sat down to open her folder, giving a dismayed look at the top sheet. "This is on the Randolph rape three months ago," she said, jabbing a finger at a report she'd written, maybe in the haste it'd taken to keep up with another case. "They went through this fucker with an actual red pen," she said, squinting irritably down at the page. "Said I used the wrong form of 'there.' Nitpicky bullshit. Feels like middle school."

 Sonny laid one hand on his forehead, careful not to muss his hair at he began riffling through his own folder. His contained decidedly less red pen than Amanda's, but still enough to make him wonder what his ma would say to see him mangle one too many commas. His report cards always left something to be desired. There were notes he'd scrawled down about a subway fondler from two weeks ago, covered in his chicken scratch and almost looking like the manifesto of a serial killer. Lieu had clearly rummaged through the haphazard stack that had been sitting on his desk for too long

 "This day is going to suck," Amanda said now, looking down at her phone to scroll through LMZ's Twitter as a means of distraction from the task at hand.

 "At least half of it's over," he said, laying out the borderline-rumpled sheets of notes on his desk and glancing through them, eager to get started in hopes of tearing through them in time enough to sneak out at a reasonable hour. After several moments he began to type, and Amanda eventually followed suit after gathering she wouldn't have the option of distracting him with the latest gossip on the Kardashians.

 His mind seemed to have a singular focus for the first several hours of reports, begrudgingly content to peck out the details of a particularly grisly beating and assault sustained by a woman walking home from an ultimate Frisbee tournament, but the grind of his slow progress came to an abrupt halt when his phone buzzed from where he'd laid it upside down in the top drawer of his desk to try not to look at it. Sonny tried to ignore it, but after two minutes, it buzzed again to remind him of the text.

 Amanda was typing, fingers moving faster than Sonny's had ever been capable of. It comforted him slightly to notice she wasn't paying attention, and he fished the phone out of the top drawer. The screen came to life, and Sonny startled pleasantly to find Rafael's name waiting for him. He punched in  his passcode with an eagerness that he kicked himself for. Playing cool was no longer his strong suit, though it could be argued that time and time again Rafael had proven to him had no place between them any longer.

  _Dinner tonight? I'm feeling like wine._

Wednesdays were never typical for the two of them, at least not now that Sonny tried to keep his veins and liver as minimally muddied as possible during the week - despite the fact that it never worked out as planned. Still, the text sent a quiet thrill through him. It had been days since they'd seen each other, and Sonny wondered when he'd become quite so sentimental.

 His eyes wandered back to the still-thick pile of reports on his desk, and he found himself instantly hole-poked and deflated. He considered his response but opted for practicality.

  _Rain check for Friday? Got called out for neglecting my reports._

Building some form of discipline could be considered a work in progress.

 The phone was dormant for a moment, and Sonny swallowed down the knot of fear he'd be rejected.

  _Didn't have you pegged as the bad boy type._ Sonny could hear the tone in Rafael's voice as though it'd been spoken aloud, and a small smile twitched upward from the corners of his mouth.

  _You have no idea_. It felt a little like flirting. Color spread to his cheeks.

 His attention was now fully on the phone, focus on the ultimate Frisbee assault suddenly gone to the wayside, and he beamed when Rafael's response came: _Friday it is. Get your shit together, Carisi._ There was no bite to it, and Sonny let the comfort of the remark wash over him.

 When he'd put the phone back in the least distracting place possible, he looked up only to find Amanda's eyes on him, her own paperwork predictably neglected. The precinct was now fully empty, as most of the other detectives and officers had disappeared for the evening. Only the two of them remained in the squad room itself, and Amanda kicked up her feet on the desk as though she'd resigned herself to the idea that her own documentation would undeniably spill over into a two day undertaking. She began picking at the metallic corner of a granola bar wrapper.

 "What?" he asked, automatically shifting into defensiveness.

 Amanda seemed to consider her response carefully, opening her mouth once as a false start before deciding what to offer. "How was brunch the other day?" she asked, using her gift for amenability for what Sonny couldn't pin down as good or evil.

 The knot from the earlier, glacially-paced wait in the clinic instantly retied itself, and he glanced down reflexively at the top sheet of his next jumble of handwritten notes. "It was good. Overdid it a little on the powdered sugar, though." Sonny kicked himself for his cowardice.

 She regarded him with easily apparent, mingled suspicion and bemusement. "Interesting weekend company you're keepin' these days." She handily shredded the packaging of the granola bar and took a bite of it. Sonny began to see the writing on the wall - caught red handed by the one person who didn't share the Carisi bloodline that he couldn't hide from these days. He wondered if color was slowly draining from his face.

 "Well, you know." It was a paltry beginning to a false explanation, one meant just to buy time. "Like you said, it's coming up to be time to take the Bar someday. You're not the only one all over my ass about it." There was probably an easy pun in there somewhere, but to her credit, Amanda didn't snap it up.

 It was clear he was being evasive, but Amanda was never one to back down from a challenge - a quality Sonny had long admired her for but now found to be a source of resentment.

 There was no tease left in her gaze, and she sighed quietly. "Sonny," she began, taking another bite of granola bar and holding a couple of fingertips to her mouth to keep a stray raisin from falling away. "You know you don't have to bullshit me, don't you?"

 He sighed and hung his head, now uncaring about whether or not his hair mussed. There was no one around to notice that wasn't already in the process of learning things to judge him for. When he looked up, he forced himself to make eye contact with Amanda. "It's - it's not like - " Sonny cleared his throat, grasping blindly for good ideas on what to say and coming up with nothing readily. He lowered his voice almost conspiratorially. "I didn't expect this to happen."

 Amanda's mouth seemed to fall open into a silent _o_ of surprise, though not as dramatically as he might have worried about when he imagined nightmare scenarios for how this conversation might eventually come about. Sonny silently thanked anyone or anything out there that might have still been watching over him that it had come at a time where no one in the world could overhear the first time he'd breathed a word of what had been transpiring between he and Rafael for the last several months. Once it escaped him, he felt as though he'd fallen headfirst over the edge of a bridge.

 She didn't make him specify it out loud, and he was thankful for that as well, blanching at the idea that he'd be forced to spell out that he'd been sleeping with a colleague - a _male_ colleague, at that - for months, since the first chill of Fall. It was one thing to mentally agonize over it to himself, trying to make sense of it all, but entirely another to try to spell it out aloud.

 "How long?" she asked, almost a hissing stage whisper as she dropped the granola bar unceremoniously on a cheap paper towel she'd laid out next to the reports she'd abandoned today for the second time in their sad history. They could wait.

 Sonny bit his lip, contemplating the back pages of his calendar. "Since the Fall. I don't know. It started off just a few times and before I knew it we - " He let out a heaving, almost frantic gust of air. "If you tell anyone, I swear to God I - " Sonny let the sentence die on his lips when he considered that Amanda was not only someone he now considered a friend, but certainly a friend who would see through any inane bullshit he could pull on her as an empty threat. He hung his head once again, and deeper this time.

 There was a sympathetic look on her face now. "Hey, we've all been there," she said comfortingly, and they both knew she'd had her fair share of one night stands that had suddenly veered into _a little more complicated than that_ territory. For the most split of seconds he wondered if Amanda was thinking of Amaro - Sonny had been unspeakably jealous at the time, so much so that he flinched to think of it now.

 "I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, sounding comically hopeless to his own ears. Sonny looked up in a rush, nearly forgetting the most important part: "I'm not even gay."

 Amanda waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be so old-fashioned," she warned. "Who cares?"

 Before he could stop himself, Sonny left out a soft huff. "I do," he countered, jabbing his finger down at his desk toward nothing in particular except the hope of emphasis. "Barba's the only one." It felt strange to refer to Rafael again by his last name - almost clinical, certainly nothing he'd ever moaned out before on nights where he found himself on his back and -

 For her part, Amanda seemed nonplussed. "Well, Carisi, sounds like there's a first time for everything." She picked up the granola bar again, as though needing sustenance to continue counseling Sonny through his early evening sexuality crisis. Sonny sighed, knowing by now that his own avalanche of files would require a second day of desk duty. "Who else knows?"

 Sonny covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, feeling overwhelmed. "No one - at least no one _I've_ told."

 Amanda gave him a wry smile. "I bet Rita Calhoun knows," she mused. "You know they're like _this_." She held up two fingers twined together, almost triumphantly.

 The thought made Sonny blanch in a horror he hadn't yet considered. "Oh for Christ's sake - don't say that type of shit." She laughed loudly, a sound that simultaneously startled Sonny and put him at ease - a lightness he could still depend on to make some modicum of sense. He ran his finger around the top rim of his long-empty cup of cheap NYPD-issue coffee. "Please, just don't say anything to anybody."

 It was an unnecessary addition, and Amanda made sure he knew it through an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Jesus, Sonny. I hope you know me better than that." And it was true - Amanda was certainly impulsive and brash on her worst of days, but he'd have to give her the credit that was due. She had never been anything but loyal to him, loyal enough to never rib him indelicately for trying to kiss her in the almost-deep South even when it would've been easy to over a few shots of bourbon to jog the memory.

 "I'm sorry. I do," he agreed. Sonny sighed heavily. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, Amanda," he repeated, eyes downcast.

 She rose to abscond to the coffee pot. "You're asking the wrong person. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, and neither does anyone I know." Amanda had always known when to sell herself short to make him comfortable. She grabbed his coffee cup on the way, and he leaned back in his chair awaiting her return.

 When she sat the coffee cup in front of him - lightened with milk and plied with more sugar than anyone either of them knew took - she continued to stand, one hand placed on her hip.

 "Is this an exclusive dating type thing?" she asked, waving one hand quickly as a form of punctuation which made little sense but seemed tacked on for emphasis.

 Sonny offered one shrugged hand. "That's one of the parts I don't fucking know." He sighed, making a graceless circle with the coffee stirrer and watching the dappled splash of creamer disperse around it. He could see the steam rising from it even though the pot had gone long-forgotten by detectives who'd been allowed to leave by virtue of having the good sense to write a damn good report in a damn good timeframe.

 "Well?" Amanda asked, unwilling to let him leave well enough alone. "Are you seeing anyone else? Having sex with anyone else?"

 "Not in a while," he admitted, remembering all the times he'd tried to bring a woman again to scratch the itch Rafael _fucking_ Barba had put in him, but to no avail. It had been months since he'd given up the futile idea. "Like, a long time."

 She regarded him expectantly. "And what about him?"

 He gave another shrug, increasingly remembering the way it felt to be placed on the stand and scrutinized, fleetingly almost sympathetic to people he'd seen undergo it who certainly didn't deserve the pity. "I don't think so. We haven't talked about it, but I just - he isn't - " Sonny didn't know how to proceed and instead fell silent.

 Amanda took her seat and perched her chin on her hand, clearly rapt for a few moment before pulling herself back upright. "The idea of it is just, like - did you ever see one of your teachers outside of school?" He sputtered out a laugh, caught off guard but relishing the fact that he was still capable of easy laughter despite being called out onto the carpet, exposed. Her laughter seemed to settle. "And just - he's good to you?" she asked hesitantly. "The other day at brunch I saw on your wrist where - "

 "It's not like that," Sonny said, tone unintentionally abrupt, knowing there was a part of Amanda that was the same as the one in him - the one that always worried someone was being forced, taken advantage of, harmed in ways they could only talk about through tears or when forced to in a courtroom in front of dozens. "That was - I asked him to - "

 She mercifully held up a hand. "Gotcha, gotcha - I'm good with not hearing anymore about _that_ ," she said pointedly, and he smiled in an equal blend of sheepishness and gratitude. "You do you."

 Sonny sighed and closed the thin cover of his now half-empty folder, kicking himself for his inattention to punctuality and hoping it wouldn't reflect too poorly on him in the future. "Listen, I appreciate it," he told Amanda honestly, looking back up at her with the knowledge that he at least owed her the courtesy of mustering up a bit of eye contact. "It's kind of been killing me to keep this shit to myself, honestly."

 "Don't mention it," Amanda said breezily. "I'm  just glad to know you actually did take my advice to pull your head out of your ass and start getting along." She gave him a pointedly suggestive look. "Although - you took it to an extreme I didn't have in mind."

 "Shut up, Rollins," Sonny said good naturedly, getting to his feet and pulling his suit jacket back on.

 -

 The rest of the week passed in a slow crawl, in part due to the mound of documentation it took an extra day to sort through - _thanks, Rollins_ \- and in other, larger part due to the anticipation of knowing Rafael was waiting for him at the end of the week. Friday was a comparatively quick day, one where he'd found himself interviewing a suspect in a case of molestation at a kids' soccer camp. Open and shut case, thankfully, but still requiring the tedious legwork that he found at once cumbersome and dependable.

 Olivia had eyed with him with a beat of disdain before giving him a short nod when he'd finally gestured at her with the empty folder. "Good work, Carisi, but let's not do this again, hmm?" she asked, clearly loathing the bureaucratic task of lecturing her detectives about pesky things like documentation. Sonny supposed he could see the sudden crackdown as a cautionary tale, something akin to the idea of being put in time out the way he'd try to do as an inept babysitter in his teen years. He wouldn't put her in the position again.

 And so as the sun began to down over Manhattan, Sonny made his way at last to Rafael's apartment, his nerves beating in his chest as though trying to break free and abandon him for someone who didn't fuss so much. He held a bottle of wine - something red, dry, and appropriately snobby he hoped Rafael might deem suitable. He'd frantically browsed some pretentious wine website in a hurry in the aisle of the bodega, too prideful to ask for help. They'd seen him buy Busch - not even Busch, but _Busch Light_ in a pinch. There was no masquerading here.

 When he knocked on the door of Rafael's apartment, he found Rafael still dressed in his work best, his dress shirt with its top two buttons undone and his tie long forgotten, but most of the suit intact. Sonny had changed quickly into something casual, a long sleeved t-shirt or some shit that suddenly felt woefully inadequate.

 Rafael had the tact to wait until he came through the door to kiss him, letting the palm of his hand wander up Sonny's belly to splay across his chest through the cotton blend there as their mouths moved together.

 "I suppose you're out of the doghouse?" Rafael asked, his hand still light on the curve of Sonny's jaw.

 The bottle of wine was still in his hand, obscured by already rumpled brown paper where the neck of it was clenched in his fist. Sonny allowed himself a moment to lean in, to hold Rafael even with the bottle cold and firm behind his back as they embraced. It felt intimate, and he wondered when the shift had begun to feel so easy here.

 "It didn't come easy," Sonny remarked, shrugging off his jacket and remind himself to drape it across the back of one of the chairs by the kitchen table. He knew better than to mistreat his clothes here. "Took two days. Amanda was on her third. Turns out she can't type worth a damn."  

 "God bless you all for serving and protecting," Rafael mused, already opening the cabinet door where he kept the glassware and rooting inside for two wine glasses. It struck Sonny that maybe now it had been long enough between drunken phone calls that he'd proven himself trustworthy enough to start drinking as quickly as possible on a Friday night again. Maybe it was the absence of his Mets cup that made all the difference. It was sad to think of it, empty, alone and collecting dust in the empty side of his sink at home.

 "Well, I took an oath," Sonny said with mock bashfulness.

 Rafael made short work of the cork of the wine bottle, tipping a generous helping into each of their glasses. "You made a good choice," he said, eyes fixed on the label. Sonny's ma had always told him the best wines had some type of water bird on them - a stork, a heron, some type of shit that was in short supply in person in Manhattan. He'd followed suit here.

 "Thank the internet." Sonny took the glass in his hand, gesturing at Rafael with it as though expecting a clink. "To your health."

 Rafael responded in turn, tapping the glasses together with a nod. "And yours."

 There was a moment of companionable silence between the two of them. Sonny cleared his throat, draining the glass. There was guilt drumming beneath the surface, making the emptying an act of obligation that allowed him to power through the taste that reminded him of swallowing a glass of sawdust.

 He wondered if he was the same swilling, slurring Carisi Rafael might remember. Rafael regarded him with a curious look, but made no move to speak and instead pouring him another glass of the rich, red liquid.

 "Listen - " he began helplessly, unsure where to start.

 If Rafael was concerned about what was to come, his face betrayed no emotion, and he simply swirled the wine in his glass before taking a delicate sniff and a long swallow. It reminded Sonny of some shit he'd see on television, some shit that didn't involve crushing an aluminum can beneath the sole of a well-loved tennis shoe in a garage - foreign and frightening.

 "Amanda knows," he blurted.

 Now Rafael's face did speak volumes - surprised, though not angry, and Sonny wondered why rage hadn't followed the admission. He'd turned the idea over and over in his mind before bed for the past two days, imagining a reckoning that would befall him for the sin of too much honesty. He'd been up half of the night Thursday, once the tiredness of a Wednesday spent hunched over a keyboard had had time to evaporate.

 The notion that someone finally knew about the events of the last several months had come as a relief to him in the moment - that initial moment when something too tight and restrictive had finally snapped and been thrown to the wayside - but the implication weighed heavily on Sonny for the following days. He'd felt ill the entirety of Friday morning, the implication of his betrayal wedged between his ribs when he caught sight of Rafael consulting with Amanda over a deposition from across the room.

 "Oh?" Rafael asked, voice offering no agenda.

 "She was - she's a good detective," Sonny said, his voice sounding lame to his own ears. It was true, and they both knew it well enough to respect it as a starting point. _She's a good detective_ always seemed a good starting point for having been caught in a compromising position, like the time he'd had to explain away his guilt for having finished the second half of her leftover fettuccine alfredo from the break room refrigerator. He still hadn't shaken off the guilt from that particular theft.

 "Is she?" Rafael asked in a tone Sonny couldn't read.

 He felt his own height rapidly depleting, standing here small and shrunken before Rafael. "I - well, we've spent a lot of time in the office together, and she mentioned what she saw at brunch and - " _And I just fucking told her_ , Sonny thought, unable to combat his own disdain for himself.

 To his surprise, Rafael sat down his wine glass and rested his hand on Sonny's wrist, a warm presence designed to stop him in his tracks. It certainly worked.

 "I trust Rollins," he said, the pad of his thumb snaking its way around to make a few gentle circles around the throb of Sonny's pulse. " - and if I can, so can you."

 Sonny had braced himself for the impact, and found himself now vibrating with unnecessary anticipation. "You aren't mad?" He didn't dare pick his own glass up again yet, wondering if this was a trap to push him into feeling too secure. It didn't come.

 "You've required more discretion than I have," Rafael told him, mild in tone but pointed in implication. "I'd say it was more up to you to make the decision to tell someone. If you had to tell someone, she was a fine enough choice." It stuck him that fine enough was high praise coming from Rafael, despite the expanse of the soft underbelly he showed Sonny here in the confines of his apartment.

 It was then that Sonny allowed himself another sip of wine - a large one, he must have admitted. He wondered if he ought to at least pretend to smell the wine, to give the illusion that he knew what he was sniffing for instead of just readily admitting he was swilling with the goal of getting the hot thrum in his veins and the soothing of his worries. Rafael's hand hadn't left his own, that patient thumb still tracing idly.

 Their eyes met as Rafael took another drink of his wine - longer this time, as though for once he hoped to keep pace with Sonny. Sonny shifted his hand, turning it over palm side up to lace their fingers together on the countertop. Their eye contact felt too much to bear, but he gathered the resolve not to break it. He'd used up his allowance of cowardice too early on.

 "Have you told anyone?" Sonny asked, the idea of Rita Calhoun crowing _you didn't Rafa - Jesus Christ!_  over midday drinks gnawing in the back of his mind since Amanda had planted it there, _goddamn_ her. He hoped any fear in his voice was at least minimally apparent.

 Rafael stepped around the kitchen island, leaning up and in to press their lips together, and Sonny allowed himself to savor the warmth of Rafael's mouth against his own. He let out a shaky sigh, fingers reflexively tightening in Rafael's grasp. He could taste the dry rasp of wine on Rafael's lips and wondered if it was just as pronounced on his own.

 He realized his hand was shaking as Rafael pulled back, bringing a hand up to brush two fingertips through the hair at his temple.

 "It's not just mine to tell," Rafael mused, letting the hand drift down to Sonny's waist, then further down to his hip. His hand felt searing through the layer of Sonny's t-shirt, and he squirmed under the warmth. "I've told you before - you certainly aren't the first man I've been with."

 He couldn't argue with that, but it didn't mean he wouldn't try other tactics. "It isn't just that. We work together," Sonny protested, hoping to appeal to a sense of integrity which seemed antiquated.

 But there was no room for argument in the way that Rafael's lips trailed across his face from his lips up to what he could reach of the shell of Sonny's ear, their hips beginning to push together. "We do," he agreed, hands sliding from Sonny's hips around to his back, pulling him closer. " - and luckily, this type of thing is an absolute first in our workplace," he teased darkly, knowing they'd both seen their fair share of HR nightmares firsthand, even between people they knew.

 It was hard to care about propriety with Rafael kissing down the side of his neck, suckling lightly at the front of his throat.

 Rafael's hand sneaked underneath the hem of his shirt, tracing at the fine line of hair across Sonny's belly before thumbing insistently at the buckle of his belt. He leaned away, picking up his wine glass and taking a last, long drink to render the glass empty. Sonny leaned against the kitchen island, fingers clenching on the cool granite surface as Rafael's mouth wandered further down, between what he could reach of the hollow between Sonny's collarbones.

 "I don't want to get you in trouble," Sonny protested, knowing they were long past that particular fear, but he could acknowledge that this was what his periodic sobriety had laid in his lap.

 "Likewise," Rafael told him earnestly, but it did little to deter him from rucking his hands further up underneath Sonny's shirt, running across the dusting of hair across his chest.

 Sonny's breath was coming in harsh gasps, and he could hear the exasperated tremor in his voice, thick with arousal as he huffed, "I mean, there has to be some kind of precedent against this sort of thing," but he tightened his fingers around the wrist of Rafael's free hand as an anchor and a plea not to stop despite the verbal protest.

 Unfortunately, this did stop Rafael momentarily in his tracks, and Sonny felt himself arch toward him as though chasing his mouth and pleading for it to return. "What makes that matter to you now, all of a sudden?" he asked, voice gentle but certainly seeking an answer.

 It was on the tip of his tongue, Sonny realized, and he let his eyes drift closed as he tried to catch his bearings. All of a sudden every bone, tendon, and muscle in his body carried a heaviness that threatened to bring him to the ground in an exhausted heap under a burden he could no longer bear to shoulder. He sagged forward, resting his head against Rafael's shoulder for a long moment and found that the presence no longer intimidated him - not here, leaned against someone who'd seen the ugliest, most pitiful parts of him splayed out for scrutiny and still shared space with him after all of it.

 He was frightened, and overpoweringly tired of being so.

  Sonny leaned back, trying to face Rafael but struggling in vain to keep eye contact. He settled instead for focusing on the curve of Rafael's neck where his collar had loosened, revealing the tanned skin.

 "It's real to me now, y'know?" It was by no means the most articulate thing he'd ever said, but he sensed the weight as Rafael slid his hand down and out from underneath the layer of the shirt to twist one finger into Sonny's belt loop. There was no pressure to proceed further, just the simple link between the two of them.

 There was a small, almost furtive smile on Rafael's face as he deliberately ducked into Sonny's view, forcing their eyes to meet without any further command. He leaned in, kissing Sonny with a newfound softness, pulling him only slightly closer by the finger knotted in the small loop of denim.

 "I know," Rafael murmured. It made Sonny feel warm all over, flushing at the intimacy of teetering on the verge of collapse without removing so much as a stitch of clothing. A glass and a half of wine had certainly never had this effect on him - there was no longer any point in pretending that grapes or hops or grain mash or any of that nonsense had anything to do with it.

 He didn't trust himself to speak, leaning forward again to press his lips to Rafael's. Sonny was content to spend a few moments gently sharing air with Rafael, their lips moving slowly and without urgency against one another until Rafael pushed him backwards, taking the initiative to maneuver one thigh between Sonny's legs. A soft groan escaped him as he pressed downward against the welcome presence of the thigh.

 "Let me take you to bed, Sonny," Rafael whispered, fingers brushing over the flat copper button of Sonny's jeans.

 Something frantic began to beat within him, something he'd agonized over all day and was currently burning a hole through the fabric of his jacket pocket. He pulled away for a moment, reluctantly leaving Rafael's embrace, unable to bear his own sense of urgency.

 "I - " he tried, returning with the crumpled envelope he'd produced from the inner pocket, face burning with embarrassment, wondering if he'd had yet another poorly considered idea to add to the list. "I was thinking - about what you said - "

 Rafael regarded him with a curious look, laying one hand on the front curve of Sonny's hip but not moving to beckon him closer. The top of the envelope was ragged, clearly shredded in an overzealous haste, likely while on foot. The logo in the top left corner was fragmented and not easily identifiable to anyone who didn't know what they were looking for, but Sonny felt small and pathetic and presumptuous under Rafael's patient gaze.

 "What's this?" Rafael asked, plucking the envelope from between Sonny's fingers as he'd clearly taken pity on the way he'd floundered. Sonny stood dumbly, unable to speak as he watched Rafael pull out the letter and unfold it.

 His heart was hammering in his chest, and the palms of his hands were wet. He closed his eyes as though bracing himself for impact.

 There were only a few beats of silence before Rafael spoke: "all negative," and Sonny found himself offering a quick, silent series of nods, chewing at his bottom lip as he felt tense all over.

 He expected a conversation, some type of negotiation or game plan or _fucking anything, please say something_ , anything to placate, but was pleasantly surprised when Rafael slammed their mouths together insistently. Sonny let out a clipped gasp, their tongues mingling together immediately. Rafael kissed him slowly, filthily, grinding against him with only the slightest hint of restraint left.

 "Me too," Rafael told him, now making quick work of the buckle of Sonny's belt. "Per my exam last month - it's just you, Sonny. I hope you know that."

 Sonny let out a low, fractured moan, helping Rafael undo his own belt in a haste. "I - I hoped," he confessed, pulling the belt free and beginning the process of unbuttoning his shirt, unable to bear being deprived the sight of skin a moment longer. "Been thinking about it all week; I want it so bad." He helped Rafael shrug out of the dress shirt, feeling a slight, petty victory at the way it soon crumpled at their feet. Rafael shucked his thin, white undershirt up and off without pretense, ruffling his hair in the process.

 "What do you want so bad?" Rafael teased, steering Sonny by the shoulders backwards into the bedroom. Sonny thought he could detect a shudder passing through Rafael as he slid has hands up his bared back, but the notice went to the wayside as Rafael gave him a gentle push onto his back on the bed. His hands slid up under Sonny's shirt, ghosting a circle around one pebbling nipple before pinching down.

 " _Fuck_ \- " Sonny hissed, hips involuntarily lifting off the bed in response. " - want you inside of me, want to feel just you like that, please." His cock pressed uncomfortably at the front of his jeans, suddenly feeling suffocated by being trapped in his clothes this way. Rafael pushed his arms up, moving him to strip Sonny's shirt off and dropping it on the floor beside the bed.

 Mercifully then, Rafael popped the button of Sonny's jeans and slid them down his legs, not bothering to remove his underwear as a separate layer. Sonny kicked both his jeans and boxers off, making a soft huff of annoyance as they caught around his ankles before he could fully rid himself of them, leaving himself fully bared.

 Rafael was naked now, hooking a finger in one of Sonny's socks to pull it off and away. Sonny toed off the other and pulled Rafael down on top of him, mouths meeting again.

 "I can't wait to be inside you, Sonny," Rafael said, his voice gone low and husky, shifting his hips so their cocks could rub against each other. Sonny made a soft, strangled noise, trying to thrust upward and wishing Rafael's hand would find its way between their bodies to wrap around both of their erections. When it didn't come, he tried to reach down to do it himself. Rafael batted his hand away and instead ground harder against him, sealing their mouths together.

 The weeklong wait had been unbearable, with the feel of Sonny's hand on himself hardly a substitute for being here, sprawled out on his back and so willing to be taken, consumed. Rafael coaxed his hands above his head, pinning them effectively there against the mattress and jogging loose the memory of being tied down and used. He was rapidly losing the self-discipline it required not fight to seek more contact, more friction, more of anything to help along the way.

 When they broke apart, his eyes were wide and searching for Rafael's. "Please, please - touch me," he managed to speak as Rafael began kissing down and across his chest. He let his breath escape him slowly, feeling Rafael smile against his chest as he released one of Sonny's hands to drift down and wrap loosely around Sonny's cock. "Yes - fuck - " It was both too much and not enough.

 Rafael's tongue circled his nipple before sinking the points of his front teeth gently into the skin, releasing after a moment and laving over it with the rough flat of his tongue. Sonny writhed, wet breaths escaping him even as he was pinned.

 "Can I use my mouth on you?" Rafael asked, leaning forward, mouth hot against his ear.

 Not trusting his voice enough to answer, Sonny bobbed his head, leaning his head forward to watch. He expected Rafael's mouth to slide down, to close around his cock and take him deeply, but it didn't come. Instead, Rafael placed his hands under Sonny's thighs and coaxed them up, exposing him.

 "Is this all right?" he asked, lightly rubbing the pad of his thumb across Sonny's hole.

 "Yes!" Sonny said, voice sounding desperate and reedy to his own ears, pressing his hips backwards. " _Please_ , do it, Rafael - I want it so bad." It had been months since they'd done this, and never sober; the idea of having Rafael's mouth there made him flush in a newly clearheaded thrill. The memory of all those months spent sodden with drink and only seeking this out when he'd had too much to temper the impulse made him bristle with guilt, and he struggled to redirect his mind to the task at him.

 Rafael maneuvered Sonny's hands, encouraging him to wrap one hand around his cock to stroke himself, and the other to hold back his left thigh to pull it into his chest. He felt so exposed, knowing this part of him was on display. He could see Rafael lick his lips, and it made him shudder. He could see Rafael's cock, hard and hanging low between his legs, appearing almost uncomfortably so.

 He could feel the warmth of Rafael's breath between his legs, lower and further back, and his hand sped up as he worked himself. Rafael's fingers dug into the skin of his ass, holding him further apart to make room for his mouth.

 When Rafael's tongue stroked over the puckered rim of him, Sonny cried out, momentarily flinching away involuntarily from the unfamiliar sensation, relaxing instantly as Rafael chased him, getting him used to the feel. It had been so long, and he pushed back against Rafael's mouth, seeking more contact. He moaned brokenly as Rafael's tongue began moving faster, circling his hole.

 "Watch me," Rafael instructed, returning to kitten-lick inside of him with only the smallest point of his tongue. Sonny managed to look down between his legs, finding Rafael's hair in slightest disarray, though looking more presentable than Sonny did under these shared circumstances. His pupils had gone impossibly wide, and his eyes were solely on Sonny. A jolt went through him to see the look on Rafael's face - warm, adoring. It was almost too much.

 He tried not to break the eye contact as he stroked himself, his hand ever-quick, using his thumb to spread the rapidly building bead of precome around the head of his cock. It shone in the dim light of the room, thin and glossy, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

 Rafael let one hand free, tangling his fingers with Sonny's hand where it held his thigh up. He worked his tongue in deeper, if only a little, enjoying the shake that seemed to run through Sonny's entire body. Sonny's eyes flew open, thrusting into his own hand as more precome dribbled out and soiled the trembling curve of his hand. Sonny could feel the wetness between his legs as Rafael worked more insistently, saliva pooling as he worked to loosen Sonny inside with each sweep of his tongue becoming more insistent.

 "That feels so good," Sonny gasped, and he felt Rafael offer a hum of agreement where his mouth met Sonny's body, squeezing his fingers gently. He could feel the spittle running down now, wet in the crease of his ass. It was filthy, and his hand was flying, grip as fast and firm as he'd need to push himself over the edge. "Y-you need to stop, please - I'm gonna - " He couldn't form the rest of the sentence.

 Taking pity on his desperation, Rafael leaned away, lips obscenely wet and slightly reddened. Sonny collapsed backward, letting Rafael ease his hips downward, back to the bed. He was shaking in earnest now as he let go of his cock, still worried he might come before Rafael could push inside him.

 "I - I'll just need your fingers for just a minute, I promise, please - " he stammered, knowing he wouldn't last if Rafael paid him the attention he typically did, taking care to work him open nice and slow. Rafael slowly stroked himself in Sonny's view, always more patient that Sonny could manage for himself. Sonny always marveled to hear himself at the edge of begging. He'd never begged with women - maybe had never had the inclination to. He'd never done a lot of things before this.

 Rummaging for a moment in his nightstand, Rafael complied and returned with a small bottle of lube and nothing else. The enormity of not bringing back a condom was not lost on Sonny, and he found himself as fearful as he was excited. He found himself spreading his legs, alarmed at his own wantonness.

 "I'll give you whatever you need," Rafael agreed, already dispensing the clear liquid on his fingertips, perhaps too generously in the haste of his arousal. He circled his fingertips against each other, warming the cool liquid as thoroughly as possible. "You look so fucking good right now."

 Without further pretense, Rafael's fingers trailed down to the spit-slick mess of Sonny's hole, easing in past the slightly-loosened muscle with two gentle, sure fingers. Sonny jerked at the intrusion, clumsily dragging Rafael up to kiss him, seeking something to ground him as the fingers crooked even with the risk of tasting that part of himself on Rafael's lips. His hand burrowed between their bodies, wrapping around Rafael's cock and coaxing out a small, growling breath.

 Sonny whimpered against Rafael's mouth as his fingers slid out slightly before pushing back in in a series of small thrusts, sending a shock through his body as his mouth dropped slack and open against Rafael's. They scissored slightly apart, in a patient but insistent haste to stretch him as open as necessary. Sonny could hear the desperate noises escaping him, mind racing at the idea that Rafael was making room for himself inside Sonny's body in a way they'd never tried before.

 He could tell Rafael was searching inside of him, looking for what never failed to make Sonny cry out. He pushed his hips back impatiently, gone uncoordinated with needy anticipation.

 "Oh, please," he asked, ever-polite even when desperate. "Almost - almost - " he stammered, but he was reducing to a garble of nonsensical syllables as Rafael found what he was looking for, circling patiently around the bump of nerves deep inside of him. His skin was on fire, bursting into flames at the assured touch.

 "There it is," Rafael murmured gently, kissing him again and not seeming to mind that Sonny's hand had gone clumsy where it was curled around his cock. "That's good, baby." The endearment only made the heat worse, spreading uncontrollably through him. "I love the noises you make." Sonny bit down hard on his lip, worried he might shout as Rafael's fingers rubbing with more pressure inside of him. Rafael stroked a small circle across Sonny's perineum, threatening to push him over the edge.

 Sonny slapped a hand down on the mattress, bucking his hips back toward Rafael's hand. "Please, don't tease me anymore," he begged, eyes gone wide. "I'm ready for you now, I swear."

 With a soft laugh without bite, Rafael gently kissed the corner of Sonny's mouth, sliding his fingers free.

 Rafael gently tilted Sonny's face downward from where his head had leaned back, throat bared in submission.

 "Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked, barely keeping the hopefulness out of his voice as he rubbed his bare flesh against Sonny's backside. "Want me inside you this way?"

 A sparse few milliseconds passed before Sonny nodded. "Yes, yes - just you," he whispered, meaning every syllable of it before he could manage to hold back, to shy away from the way that he felt he'd die without it, here in the broad expanse of Rafael's bed. They'd done so many things here, grappled with so much bullshit of Sonny's own making - this was new.

 The kiss he received in exchange was soft, an almost ephemeral brush of lips so brief Sonny might've sworn it hadn't come at all if his eyes hadn't been open while Rafael leaned in for it.

 "How do you want to - " Sonny started, mouth gone dry, voice gone hoarse.

 "Want to see your face," Rafael told him, brushing a slightly damp lock of hair off of his forehead, clearly trying to maintain his composure. He stroked his own cock idly, clearly unable to keep his hand off of himself. "I want to see the way you look when I fuck you." Sonny nodded, licking as best as he could at his bottom lip with a dry mouth. "Can I have you on top?"

 Sonny eased himself out from underneath Rafael's body, gangly limbs only marginally cooperating with him now. He didn't need to verbally consent, but rushed to do so anyway. " _Please_ ," he breathed, giving Rafael space to sit up, and to lean back against the lush array of firm, white-cased pillows. " - want you so much right now. I have all day."

 As he settled in against the pillows, Rafael had already drizzled more lube onto his cock, spreading it with sweeping, shaky strokes. His eyes were heavy-lidded, focused on Sonny as he tried to arrange himself on top of Rafael. He steadied Sonny with a lube-slicked hand on the lower back, inwardly flinching at the idea of creating a mess but without the ability to care any further.

 "Don't be nervous," Rafael urged, knowing Sonny well enough to understand that the reassurance would be appreciated even if Sonny couldn't admit it. The blunt head of his erection was poised against Sonny's loosened entrance, and it was apparent that Sonny was fighting not to push down immediately.

 "I'm not," Sonny lied, and Rafael gave him a fond look. He stretched slightly upward, laying a comforting hand on the curve of his cheek as he pressed a kiss to Sonny's throat.

 "Sure," Rafael teased, though his voice caught in his throat as Sonny began to bear his hips down, slowly stretching himself to accommodate. His hands automatically went to Sonny's hips, helping him with the slow progress but not eager to push or to startle.

The feeling of Rafael inside of him was almost immediately consuming, and Sonny whimpered at the sensation of bare skin, unfamiliar and somehow even better than anything they'd shared before. There was nothing to separate them now - it felt somehow fitting, the last vestiges of Sonny's reservations being chipped away with each passing day. It was terrifying, but the smolder in his belly was overwhelming.

He was fully seated now, Rafael's balls pressed against the stretched rim of him, and he gasped, feeling fuller than ever. Rafael was panting against his shoulder, skating his teeth there in increments as Sonny faced the challenge of adjustment.

 "How does it feel?" Rafael asked, a sparse rasp.

 Sonny shifted his hips in order to alleviate some residual soreness in his hip from where he'd arched his leg up to allow access for Rafael's mouth earlier, and it earned a throaty moan from Rafael underneath him. He couldn't find the words to describe it, unsure what would do it justice, unsure what would come out until it did, finally, unexpectedly -

 "I love you, Rafael," he said, honest as anything he'd ever said, laid bare and taken here with no pretense of avoidance or shyness. When the words escaped him, Rafael growled low in his throat, bucking his hips upward almost as a reflex. Sonny let out a quick, rattling breath at the abrupt sensation before settling back and winding his fingers in with the lube-wetted hand now at his hip. "I do, I promise I do - "

 For his part, Rafael surged upward, almost smashing their mouths together but forcing himself to soften the movement at the last second. "I love you," he agreed, his voice soft and whispered against Sonny's mouth.

 A few moments passed, the intimacy between them nearly chaste were it not for the feverishly hot feel of Rafael bare and unadulterated inside of him, the way his legs trembled on either side of Rafael's lap, the way his cock leaked where it rested on Rafael's stomach where they pressed close together.

 "I need to move," Sonny gritted out, still on edge and needing something, anything, writhing.

 Rafael nodded, the slightest stubble of the day gritting coarsely against Sonny's throat. "You're so fucking tight, Sonny, Jesus," he urged, letting both of his hands grip Sonny's hips now to ease his body up Rafael's length and then back down in the first thrust. It wrung a strangled groan from Sonny, and a louder one from himself. "So hot inside." He coaxed several more thrusts in a quicker succession, relishing in the sloppy sound where they moved together.

 The words sent a bolt of pleasure through him, and now Sonny took care to stabilize his knees so he could rock his hips up and down, not wanting to lose much of the sensation of Rafael deep inside of him. He leaned down and kissed Rafael messily, already too far gone for technique.

 "Oh, god, it feels - " he stammered, mind unable to keep up, to remain articulate. He took a series of gulping breaths, needing the air as Rafael resumed stroking his cock in time with the combined efforts of their thrusts. "Never felt this way before - so fucking good - love this."

 Sonny's body was flushed all over, the tops of his ears and chest stained red, almost ashamed at how close to breaking he was already, brought to the edge by the furnace-hot press of Rafael inside of him with no barrier between them. Rafael's hand was still slick, though the lube wasn't needed - not with the way that precome was now pooling generously across Rafael's knuckles.

 "Yeah, yeah." Rafael was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, his hips snapping upward and trying to get into synchronicity with Sonny's lust-clumsy movements. "Do you - you're going to make me come." His voice was thick, needy.

 Their mouths pressed together again, so much more insistently this time that Sonny couldn't breathe. "Will you come inside me?" Sonny asked, embarrassment spilling through him, but chased away by the look of hunger the question left on Rafael's face. "Please give it to me, please, I want you to - "

 "I want you to come too."

 Rafael continued to stroke Sonny, quickening the pace of his upward thrusts, and Sonny cried out at being hit so deeply inside that he swore his vision was fading at the edges. The feeling was so overwhelmingly good that he could hear himself, faraway and sobbing, and he could feel himself tensing all over, sagging forward with one hand against the wall.

 "Close," he gasped out, leaning farther forward to fasten his neck to Rafael's neck. "Please, make me come, _fuck_!" The explicative tore its way past his teeth as he rocked back and forth between the jarring motion of Rafael's thrusts and the quick, messy slide of Rafael's hand on him.

 "Do it, _cariño_ \- let me see you come," Rafael said, punctuating with a series of shallow, sharp rolls of his hips. Sonny let out a loud, hitching sob, come spilling from him and all over Rafael's hand, dribbling sloppily over and between his fingers. He was shaking all over, almost feeling his teeth rattling in his mouth until Rafael surged his hand up, dragging him down by the hair in a way that stung pleasantly to kiss him feverishly.

 It took little else to push Rafael over the edge, and Sonny could feel warmth spreading inside of him in a way that both alarmed and thrilled him as Rafael let out his most pronounced shudder yet. Rafael breathed shakily against, him, as though unable to calm himself from the exertion, and Sonny briefly wondered if he'd killed him before laughing at his own alarm. His sweaty forehead rested against Sonny's shoulder, and he nuzzled it as though to ground himself before leaning back.

 Sonny took the cue and slid away from Rafael, coming to sprawl out of his side, laying one hand on his stomach where stray beads of come dappled it. It occurred to him that ever-fussy Rafael probably wouldn't be too pleased to find the mess on his comforter tomorrow, but it didn't seem to matter now, not with the way that Rafael stretched out beside him, kissing him now almost chastely as they both took pains to calm themselves.

 Their breathing was the only sound in the room.

 Rafael turned slightly, reaching for a tissue to at least mop away some of the come still soiling his hand so he could place it on Sonny's bare hip without furthering the mess. The practicality made Sonny smile.

 "I meant what I said," Sonny said, finding himself unable - and perhaps unwilling - to reign in his vulnerability any longer. "It's fucking scary but - I do love you, Rafael."

 The statement made a lazy smile come to Rafael's face, one that reached his eyes even though they'd slid closed in exhaustion. "Say it again," he said, stretching his feet and ankles as though trying to regain feeling in his legs.

 "What?"

 "Say it again, Sonny, Jesus Christ. It makes me feel good." The request was simple, almost laughably so, but it sent something so good it felt almost painful through Sonny. He spread his hand out across Rafael's chest, enjoying the scratch of the thatch of coarse hair against his palm.

 "I love you," Sonny told him earnestly, finding a little more certainly in his voice, even if it was of an alien sort. He was quiet for a moment, feeling ashamed of himself in hindsight of all that had happened, those dead months that had passed so slowly until they'd begun to thaw now into this comfortable warmth. "I - I think I have for longer," he added, knowing there was nothing to lie about here.

 A soft laugh escaped Rafael, one that caught Sonny off guard but caught him in the stomach where the gladness burrowed into him.

 "I should so hope so," Rafael said, regarding him seriously for a moment before he could no longer keep the borderline-delirious smile from returning. He looked relaxed and opened in ways Sonny hadn't dared to imagine before. He considered his response for only a moment before offering it up: "you've been my blind spot for months, Carisi." The easiness of the statement struck Sonny with a pang of envy, the wish that for once he could just allow himself to say what he meant, to wish he could wear something on his sleeve that fit well and didn't ache.

 Sonny rolled to one side, brushing his lips across Rafael's, savoring the calm that came with it - the soft, satisfied noise of pleasure without expectation.

 "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say."

 The smile hadn't left Rafael's face, though it had softened into something sleepier. He looked younger. Sonny felt something bloom inside of him that he knew he couldn't escape.

 "The nice thing about loving somebody is that it can be about more than just forgiveness," Rafael said with a pronounced yawn, clearly on the fringes of sleep. "It's just a matter of making it that way." It irritated Sonny how Rafael could be profound even as he was drifting off to sleep, he thought with good natured annoyance. He tucked his chin against Rafael's bare shoulder, tangling their legs together and pulling the edge of the now-ruined comforter up and over their bodies.

 Any kind of mess could wait until tomorrow, he supposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been a hot minute since I updated this - thanks so much for your patience and I hope it was worth the wait!  
> Speaking of patience, as we draw to a close, perhaps our dear friend Sonny is learning to actually process something for once, in large part due to his bro Amanda Rollins. Their friendship has been one of my favorite things to write, as well as patient, soft Rafael. 
> 
> The title of this chapter is from Deerhunter's "Death in Midsummer."  
> As always, thanks so much for your kind words and feedback - they were a big part of what got me coming back to this story, even as I got busy with Real Life but still couldn't shake these two off. I'm grateful for having you all along on the way with me!


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